diff options
Diffstat (limited to 'old/20090801-4360-h.htm')
| -rw-r--r-- | old/20090801-4360-h.htm | 20249 |
1 files changed, 20249 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/old/20090801-4360-h.htm b/old/20090801-4360-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ae9dc20 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/20090801-4360-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,20249 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<HTML> +<HEAD> + +<META HTTP-EQUIV="Content-Type" CONTENT="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1"> + +<TITLE> +The Project Gutenberg E-text of Vendetta, by Marie Corelli +</TITLE> + +<STYLE TYPE="text/css"> +BODY { color: Black; + background: White; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; + text-align: justify } + +P {text-indent: 4% } + +P.noindent {text-indent: 0% } + +P.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-size: small } + +P.letter {text-indent: 0%; + font-size: small ; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +P.footnote {font-size: small ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +P.transnote {font-size: small ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +P.intro {font-size: medium ; + text-indent: -5% ; + margin-left: 5% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +P.finis { font-size: larger ; + text-align: center ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +</STYLE> + +</HEAD> + +<BODY> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Vendetta, by Marie Corelli + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net + + +Title: Vendetta + A Story of One Forgotten + +Author: Marie Corelli + +Posting Date: August 1, 2009 [EBook #4360] +Release Date: August, 2003 +First Posted: January 15, 2002 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VENDETTA *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Franks and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. HTML version by Al Haines. + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<BR><BR> + +<H1 ALIGN="center"> +VENDETTA +</H1> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +A STORY OF ONE FORGOTTEN +</H2> + +<BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +By MARIE CORELLI +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +Author of "ARDATH," "THELMA," "A ROMANCE OF TWO WORLDS,"<BR> +"WORMWOOD," etc., etc. +</H4> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<TABLE ALIGN="center" WIDTH="100%"> +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="10%"> +<A HREF="#chap01">I</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="10%"> +<A HREF="#chap02">II</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="10%"> +<A HREF="#chap03">III</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="10%"> +<A HREF="#chap04">IV</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="10%"> +<A HREF="#chap05">V</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="10%"> +<A HREF="#chap06">VI</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="10%"> +<A HREF="#chap07">VII</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="10%"> +<A HREF="#chap08">VIII</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="10%"> +<A HREF="#chap09">IX</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="10%"> +<A HREF="#chap10">X</A> +</TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap11">XI</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap12">XII</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap13">XIII</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap14">XIV</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap15">XV</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap16">XVI</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap17">XVII</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap18">XVIII</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap19">XIX</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap20">XX</A> +</TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap21">XXI</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap22">XXII</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap23">XXIII</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap24">XXIV</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap25">XXV</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap26">XXVI</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap27">XXVII</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap28">XXVIII</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap29">XXIX</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap30">XXX</A> +</TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap31">XXXI</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap32">XXXII</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap33">XXXIII</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap34">XXXIV</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap35">XXXV</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap36">XXXVI</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap37">XXXVII</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> </TD> +</TR> + +</TABLE> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +PREFACE +</H3> + +<P> +Lest those who read the following pages should deem this story at all +improbable, it is perhaps necessary to say that its chief incidents are +founded on an actual occurrence which took place in Naples during the +last scathing visitation of the cholera in 1884. We know well enough, +by the chronicle of daily journalism, that the infidelity of wives is, +most unhappily, becoming common—far too common for the peace and good +repute of society. Not so common is an outraged husband's +vengeance—not often dare he take the law into his own hands—for in +England, at least, such boldness on his part would doubtless be deemed +a worse crime than that by which he personally is doomed to suffer. But +in Italy things are on a different footing—the verbosity and red-tape +of the law, and the hesitating verdict of special juries, are not there +considered sufficiently efficacious to sooths a man's damaged honor and +ruined name. And thus—whether right or wrong—it often happens that +strange and awful deeds are perpetrated—deeds of which the world in +general hears nothing, and which, when brought to light at last, are +received with surprise and incredulity. Yet the romances planned by the +brain of the novelist or dramatist are poor in comparison with the +romances of real life-life wrongly termed commonplace, but which, in +fact, teems with tragedies as great and dark and soul-torturing as any +devised by Sophocles or Shakespeare. Nothing is more strange than +truth—nothing, at times, more terrible! +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +MARIE CORELLI. +<BR> +August, 1886. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H1 ALIGN="center"> +VENDETTA! +</H1> + +<BR> + +<A NAME="chap01"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER I. +</H3> + +<P> +I, who write this, am a dead man. Dead legally—dead by absolute +proofs—dead and buried! Ask for me in my native city and they will +tell you I was one of the victims of the cholera that ravaged Naples in +1884, and that my mortal remains lie moldering in the funeral vault of +my ancestors. Yet—I live! I feel the warm blood coursing through my +veins—the blood of thirty summers—the prime of early manhood +invigorates me, and makes these eyes of mine keen and bright—these +muscles strong as iron—this hand powerful of grip—this well-knit form +erect and proud of bearing. Yes!—I am alive, though declared to be +dead; alive in the fullness of manly force—and even sorrow has left +few distinguishing marks upon me, save one. My hair, once ebony-black, +is white as a wreath of Alpine snow, though its clustering curls are +thick as ever. +</P> + +<P> +"A constitutional inheritance?" asks one physician, observing my +frosted locks. +</P> + +<P> +"A sudden shock?" suggests another. +</P> + +<P> +"Exposure to intense heat?" hints a third. +</P> + +<P> +I answer none of them. I did so once. I told my story to a man I met by +chance—one renowned for medical skill and kindliness. He heard me to +the end in evident incredulity and alarm, and hinted at the possibility +of madness. Since then I have never spoken. +</P> + +<P> +But now I write. I am far from all persecution—I can set down the +truth fearlessly. I can dip the pen in my own blood if I choose, and +none shall gainsay me! For the green silence of a vast South American +forest encompasses me—the grand and stately silence of a virginal +nature, almost unbroken by the ruthless step of man's civilization—a +haven of perfect calm, delicately disturbed by the fluttering wings and +soft voices of birds, and the gentle or stormy murmur of the freeborn +winds of heaven. Within this charmed circle of rest I dwell—here I +lift up my overburdened heart like a brimming chalice, and empty it on +the ground, to the last drop of gall contained therein. The world shall +know my history. +</P> + +<P> +Dead, and yet living! How can that be?—you ask. Ah, my friends! If you +seek to be rid of your dead relations for a certainty, you should have +their bodies cremated. Otherwise there is no knowing what may happen! +Cremation is the best way—the only way. It is clean, and SAFE. Why +should there be any prejudice against it? Surely it is better to give +the remains of what we loved (or pretended to love) to cleansing fire +and pure air than to lay them in a cold vault of stone, or down, down +in the wet and clinging earth. For loathly things are hidden deep in +the mold—things, foul and all unnameable—long worms—slimy creatures +with blind eyes and useless wings—abortions and deformities of the +insect tribe born of poisonous vapor—creatures the very sight of which +would drive you, oh, delicate woman, into a fit of hysteria, and would +provoke even you, oh, strong man, to a shudder of repulsion! But there +is a worse thing than these merely physical horrors which come of +so-called Christian burial—that is, the terrible UNCERTAINTY. What, if +after we have lowered the narrow strong box containing our dear +deceased relation into its vault or hollow in the ground—what, if +after we have worn a seemly garb of woe, and tortured our faces into +the fitting expression of gentle and patient melancholy—what, I say, +if after all the reasonable precautions taken to insure safety, they +should actually prove insufficient? What—if the prison to which we +have consigned the deeply regretted one should not have such close +doors as we fondly imagined? What, if the stout coffin should be +wrenched apart by fierce and frenzied fingers—what, if our late dear +friend should NOT be dead, but should, like Lazarus of old, come forth +to challenge our affection anew? Should we not grieve sorely that we +had failed to avail ourselves of the secure and classical method of +cremation? Especially if we had benefited by worldly goods or money +left to us by the so deservedly lamented! For we are self-deceiving +hypocrites—few of us are really sorry for the dead—few of us remember +them with any real tenderness or affection. And yet God knows! they may +need more pity than we dream of! +</P> + +<P> +But let me to my task. I, Fabio Romani, lately deceased, am about to +chronicle the events of one short year—a year in which was compressed +the agony of a long and tortured life-time! One little year!—one sharp +thrust from the dagger of Time! It pierced my heart—the wound still +gapes and bleeds, and every drop of blood is tainted as it falls! +</P> + +<P> +One suffering, common to many, I have never known—that is—poverty. I +was born rich. When my father, Count Filippo Romani, died, leaving me, +then a lad of seventeen, sole heir to his enormous possessions—sole +head of his powerful house—there were many candid friends who, with +their usual kindness, prophesied the worst things of my future. Nay, +there were even some who looked forward to my physical and mental +destruction with a certain degree of malignant expectation—and they +were estimable persons too. They were respectably connected—their +words carried weight—and for a time I was an object of their +maliciously pious fears. I was destined, according to their +calculations, to be a gambler, a spendthrift, a drunkard, an incurable +roue of the most abandoned character. Yet, strange to say, I became +none of these things. Though a Neapolitan, with all the fiery passions +and hot blood of my race, I had an innate scorn for the contemptible +vices and low desires of the unthinking vulgar. Gambling seemed to me a +delirious folly—drink, a destroyer of health and reason—and +licentious extravagance an outrage on the poor. I chose my own way of +life—a middle course between simplicity and luxury—a judicious +mingling of home-like peace with the gayety of sympathetic social +intercourse—an even tenor of intelligent existence which neither +exhausted the mind nor injured the body. +</P> + +<P> +I dwelt in my father's villa—a miniature palace of white marble, +situated on a wooded height overlooking the Bay of Naples. My +pleasure-grounds were fringed with fragrant groves of orange and +myrtle, where hundreds of full-voiced nightingales warbled their +love-melodies to the golden moon. Sparkling fountains rose and fell in +huge stone basins carved with many a quaint design, and their cool +murmurous splash refreshed the burning silence of the hottest summer +air. In this retreat I lived at peace for some happy years, surrounded +by books and pictures, and visited frequently by friends—young men +whose tastes were more or less like my own, and who were capable of +equally appreciating the merits of an antique volume, or the flavor of +a rare vintage. +</P> + +<P> +Of women I saw little or nothing. Truth to tell, I instinctively +avoided them. Parents with marriageable daughters invited me frequently +to their houses, but these invitations I generally refused. My best +books warned me against feminine society—and I believed and accepted +the warning. This tendency of mine exposed me to the ridicule of those +among my companions who were amorously inclined, but their gay jests at +what they termed my "weakness" never affected me. I trusted in +friendship rather than love, and I had a friend—one for whom at that +time I would gladly have laid down my life—one who inspired me with +the most profound attachment. He, Guido Ferrari, also joined +occasionally with others in the good-natured mockery I brought down +upon myself by my shrinking dislike of women. +</P> + +<P> +"Fie on thee, Fabio!" he would cry. "Thou wilt not taste life till thou +hast sipped the nectar from a pair of rose-red lips—thou shalt not +guess the riddle of the stars till thou hast gazed deep down into the +fathomless glory of a maiden's eyes—thou canst not know delight till +thou hast clasped eager arms round a coy waist and heard the beating of +a passionate heart against thine own! A truce to thy musty volumes! +Believe it, those ancient and sorrowful philosophers had no manhood in +them—their blood was water—and their slanders against women were but +the pettish utterances of their own deserved disappointments. Those who +miss the chief prize of life would fain persuade others that it is not +worth having. What, man! Thou, with a ready wit, a glancing eye, a gay +smile, a supple form, thou wilt not enter the lists of love? What says +Voltaire of the blind god? +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + "'Qui que tu sois voila ton maitre,<BR> + Il fut—il est—ou il doit etre!'"<BR> +</P> + +<P> +When my friend spoke thus I smiled, but answered nothing. His arguments +failed to convince me. Yet I loved to hear him talk—his voice was +mellow as the note of a thrush, and his eyes had an eloquence greater +than all speech. I loved him—God knows! unselfishly, sincerely—with +that rare tenderness sometimes felt by schoolboys for one another, but +seldom experienced by grown men. I was happy in his society, as he, +indeed, appeared to be in mine. We passed most of our time together, +he, like myself, having been bereaved of his parents in early youth, +and therefore left to shape out his own course of life as suited his +particular fancy. He chose art as a profession, and, though a fairly +successful painter, was as poor as I was rich. I remedied this neglect +of fortune for him in various ways with due forethought and +delicacy—and gave him as many commissions as I possibly could without +rousing his suspicion or wounding his pride. For he possessed a strong +attraction for me—we had much the same tastes, we shared the same +sympathies, in short, I desired nothing better than his confidence and +companionship. +</P> + +<P> +In this world no one, however harmless, is allowed to continue happy. +Fate—or caprice—cannot endure to see us monotonously at rest. +Something perfectly trivial—a look, a word, a touch, and lo! a long +chain of old associations is broken asunder, and the peace we deemed so +deep and lasting in finally interrupted. This change came to me, as +surely as it comes to all. One day—how well I remember it!—one sultry +evening toward the end of May, 1881, I was in Naples. I had passed the +afternoon in my yacht, idly and slowly sailing over the bay, availing +myself of what little wind there was. Guido's absence (he had gone to +Rome on a visit of some weeks' duration) rendered me somewhat of a +solitary, and as my light craft ran into harbor, I found myself in a +pensive, half-uncertain mood, which brought with it its own depression. +The few sailors who manned my vessel dispersed right and left as soon +as they were landed—each to his own favorite haunts of pleasure or +dissipation—but I was in no humor to be easily amused. Though I had +plenty of acquaintance in the city, I cared little for such +entertainment as they could offer me. As I strolled along through one +of the principal streets, considering whether or not I should return on +foot to my own dwelling on the heights, I heard a sound of singing, and +perceived in the distance a glimmer of white robes. It was the Month of +Mary, and I at once concluded that this must be an approaching +Procession of the Virgin. Half in idleness, half in curiosity, I stood +still and waited. The singing voices came nearer and nearer—I saw the +priests, the acolytes, the swinging gold censers heavy with fragrance, +the flaring candles, the snowy veils of children and girls—and then +all suddenly the picturesque beauty of the scene danced before my eyes +in a whirling blur of brilliancy and color from which looked forth—one +face! One face beaming out like a star from a cloud of amber +tresses—one face of rose-tinted, childlike loveliness—a loveliness +absolutely perfect, lighted up by two luminous eyes, large and black as +night—one face in which the small, curved mouth smiled half +provokingly, half sweetly! I gazed and gazed again, dazzled and +excited, beauty makes such fools of us all! This was a woman—one of +the sex I mistrusted and avoided—a woman in the earliest spring of her +youth, a girl of fifteen or sixteen at the utmost. Her veil had been +thrown back by accident or design, and for one brief moment I drank in +that soul-tempting glance, that witch-like smile! The procession +passed—the vision faded—but in that breath of time one epoch of my +life had closed forever, and another had begun! +</P> + +<HR ALIGN="center" WIDTH="60%"> + +<P> +Of course I married her. We Neapolitans lose no time in such matters. +We are not prudent. Unlike the calm blood of Englishmen, ours rushes +swiftly through our veins—it is warm as wine and sunlight, and needs +no fictitious stimulant. We love, we desire, we possess; and then? We +tire, you say? These southern races are so fickle! All wrong—we are +less tired than you deem. And do not Englishmen tire? Have they no +secret ennui at times when sitting in the chimney nook of "home, sweet +home," with their fat wives and ever-spreading families? Truly, yes! +But they are too cautious to say so. +</P> + +<P> +I need not relate the story of my courtship—it was brief and sweet as +a song sung perfectly. There were no obstacles. The girl I sought was +the only daughter of a ruined Florentine noble of dissolute character, +who gained a bare subsistence by frequenting the gaming-tables. His +child had been brought up in a convent renowned for strict +discipline—she knew nothing of the world. She was, he assured me, with +maudlin tears in his eyes, "as innocent as a flower on the altar of the +Madonna." I believed him—for what could this lovely, youthful, +low-voiced maiden know of even the shadow of evil? I was eager to +gather so fair a lily for my own proud wearing—and her father gladly +gave her to me, no doubt inwardly congratulating himself on the wealthy +match that had fallen to the lot of his dowerless daughter. +</P> + +<P> +We were married at the end of June, and Guido Ferrari graced our bridal +with his handsome and gallant presence. +</P> + +<P> +"By the body of Bacchus!" he exclaimed to me when the nuptial ceremony +was over, "thou hast profited by my teaching, Fabio! A quiet rogue is +often most cunning! Thou hast rifled the casket of Venus, and stolen +her fairest jewel—thou hast secured the loveliest maiden in the two +Sicilies!" +</P> + +<P> +I pressed his hand, and a touch of remorse stole over me, for he was no +longer first in my affection. Almost I regretted it—yes, on my very +wedding-morn I looked back to the old days—old now though so +recent—and sighed to think they were ended. I glanced at Nina, my +wife. It was enough! Her beauty dazzled and overcame me. The melting +languor of her large limpid eyes stole into my veins—I forgot all but +her. I was in that high delirium of passion in which love, and love +only, seems the keynote of creation. I touched the topmost peak of the +height of joy—the days were feasts of fairy-land, the nights dreams of +rapture! No; I never tired! My wife's beauty never palled upon me; she +grew fairer with each day of possession. I never saw her otherwise than +attractive, and within a few months she had probed all the depths of my +nature. She discovered how certain sweet looks of hers could draw me to +her side, a willing and devoted slave; she measured my weakness with +her own power; she knew—what did she not know? I torture myself with +these foolish memories. All men past the age of twenty have learned +somewhat of the tricks of women—the pretty playful nothings that +weaken the will and sap the force of the strongest hero. She loved me? +Oh, yes, I suppose so! Looking back on those days, I can frankly say I +believe she loved me—as nine hundred wives out of a thousand love +their husbands, namely—for what they can get. And I grudged her +nothing. If I chose to idolize her, and raise her to the stature of an +angel when she was but on the low level of mere womanhood, that was my +folly, not her fault. +</P> + +<P> +We kept open house. Our villa was a place of rendezvous for the leading +members of the best society in and around Naples. My wife was +universally admired; her lovely face and graceful manners were themes +of conversation throughout the whole neighborhood. Guido Ferrari, my +friend, was one of those who were loudest in her praise, and the +chivalrous homage he displayed toward her doubly endeared him to me. I +trusted him as a brother; he came and went as pleased him; he brought +Nina gifts of flowers and fanciful trifles adapted to her taste, and +treated her with fraternal and delicate kindness. I deemed my happiness +perfect—with love, wealth, and friendship, what more could a man +desire? +</P> + +<P> +Yet another drop of honey was added to my cup of sweetness. On the +first morning of May, 1882, our child was born—a girl-babe, fair as +one of the white anemones which at that season grew thickly in the +woods surrounding out home. They brought the little one to me in the +shaded veranda where I sat at breakfast with Guido—a tiny, almost +shapeless bundle, wrapped in soft cashmere and old lace. I took the +fragile thing in my arms with a tender reverence; it opened its eyes; +they were large and dark like Nina's, and the light of a recent heaven +seemed still to linger in their pure depths. I kissed the little face; +Guido did the same; and those clear, quiet eyes regarded us both with a +strange half-inquiring solemnity. A bird perched on a bough of jasmine +broke into a low, sweet song, the soft wind blew and scattered the +petals of a white rose at our feet. I gave the infant back to the +nurse, who waited to receive it, and said, with a smile, "Tell my wife +we have welcomed her May-blossom." +</P> + +<P> +Guido laid his hand on my shoulder as the servant retired; his face was +unusually pale. +</P> + +<P> +"Thou art a good fellow, Fabio!" he said, abruptly. +</P> + +<P> +"Indeed! How so?" I asked, half laughingly; "I am no better than other +men." +</P> + +<P> +"You are less suspicious than the majority," he returned, turning away +from me and playing idly with a spray of clematis that trailed on one +of the pillars of the veranda. +</P> + +<P> +I glanced at him in surprise. "What do you mean, amico? Have I reason +to suspect any one?" +</P> + +<P> +He laughed and resumed his seat at the breakfast-table. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, no!" he answered, with a frank look. "But in Naples the air is +pregnant with suspicion—jealousy's dagger is ever ready to strike, +justly or unjustly—the very children are learned in the ways of vice. +Penitents confess to priests who are worse than penitents, and by +Heaven! in such a state of society, where conjugal fidelity is a +farce"—he paused a moment, and then went on—"is it not wonderful to +know a man like you, Fabio? A man happy in home affections, without a +cloud on the sky of his confidence?" +</P> + +<P> +"I have no cause for distrust," I said. "Nina is as innocent as the +little child of whom she is to-day the mother." +</P> + +<P> +"True!" exclaimed Ferrari. "Perfectly true!" and he looked me full in +the eyes, with a smile. "White as the virgin snow on the summit of Mont +Blanc—purer than the flawless diamond—and unapproachable as the +furthest star! Is it not so?" +</P> + +<P> +I assented with a certain gravity; something in his manner puzzled me. +Our conversation soon turned on different topics, and I thought no more +of the matter. But a time came—and that speedily—when I had stern +reason to remember every word he had uttered. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap02"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER II. +</H3> + +<P> +Every one knows what kind of summer we had in Naples in 1884. The +newspapers of all lands teemed with the story of its horrors. The +cholera walked abroad like a destroying demon; under its withering +touch scores of people, young and old, dropped down in the streets to +die. The fell disease, born of dirt and criminal neglect of sanitary +precautions, gained on the city with awful rapidity, and worse even +than the plague was the unreasoning but universal panic. The +never-to-be-forgotten heroism of King Humbert had its effect on the +more educated classes, but among the low Neapolitan populace, abject +fear, vulgar superstition, and utter selfishness reigned supreme. One +case may serve as an example of many others. A fisherman, well known in +the place, a handsome and popular young fellow, was seized, while +working in his boat, with the first symptoms of cholera. He was carried +to his mother's house. The old woman, a villainous-looking hag, watched +the little procession as it approached her dwelling, and taking in the +situation at once, she shut and barricaded her door. +</P> + +<P> +"Santissima Madonna!" she yelled, shrilly, through a half-opened +window. "Leave him in the street, the abandoned, miserable one! The +ungrateful pig! He would bring the plague to his own hard-working, +honest mother! Holy Joseph! who would have children? Leave him in the +street, I tell you!" +</P> + +<P> +It was useless to expostulate with this feminine scarecrow; her son +was, happily for himself, unconscious, and after some more wrangling he +was laid down on her doorstep, where he shortly afterward expired, his +body being afterward carted away like so much rubbish by the beccamorti. +</P> + +<P> +The heat in the city was intense. The sky was a burning dome of +brilliancy, the bay was still as a glittering sheet of glass. A thin +column of smoke issuing from the crater of Vesuvius increased the +impression of an all-pervading, though imperceptible ring of fire, that +seemed to surround the place. No birds sung save in the late evening, +when the nightingales in my gardens broke out in a bubbling torrent of +melody, half joyous, half melancholy. Up on that wooded height where I +dwelt it was comparatively cool. I took all precautions necessary to +prevent the contagion from attacking our household; In fact, I would +have left the neighborhood altogether, had I not known that hasty +flight from an infected district often carries with it the possibility +of closer contact with the disease. My wife, besides, was not +nervous—I think very beautiful women seldom are. Their superb vanity +is an excellent shield to repel pestilence; it does away with the +principal element of danger—fear. As for our Stella, a toddling mite +of two years old, she was a healthy child, for whom neither her mother +nor myself entertained the least anxiety. +</P> + +<P> +Guido Ferrari came and stayed with us, and while the cholera, like a +sharp scythe put into a field of ripe corn, mowed down the dirt-loving +Neapolitans by hundreds, we three, with a small retinue of servants, +none of whom were ever permitted to visit the city, lived on +farinaceous food and distilled water, bathed regularly, rose and +retired early, and enjoyed the most perfect health. +</P> + +<P> +Among her many other attractions my wife was gifted with a beautiful +and well-trained voice. She sung with exquisite expression, and many an +evening when Guido and myself sat smoking in the garden, after little +Stella had gone to bed, Nina would ravish our ears with the music of +her nightingale notes, singing song after song, quaint stornelli and +ritornelli—songs of the people, full of wild and passionate beauty. In +these Guido would often join her, his full barytone chiming in with her +delicate and clear soprano as deliciously as the fall of a fountain +with the trill of a bird. I can hear those two voices now; their united +melody still rings mockingly in my ears; the heavy perfume of +orange-blossom, mingled with myrtle, floats toward me on the air; the +yellow moon burns round and full in the dense blue sky, like the King +of Thule's goblet of gold flung into a deep sea, and again I behold +those two heads leaning together, the one fair, the other dark; my +wife, my friend—those two whose lives were a million times dearer to +me than my own. Ah! they were happy days—days of self-delusion always +are. We are never grateful enough to the candid persons who wake us +from our dream—yet such are in truth our best friends, could we but +realize it. +</P> + +<P> +August was the most terrible of all the summer months in Naples. The +cholera increased with frightful steadiness, and the people seemed to +be literally mad with terror. Some of them, seized with a wild spirit +of defiance, plunged into orgies of vice and intemperance with a +reckless disregard of consequences. One of these frantic revels took +place at a well-known cafe. Eight young men, accompanied by eight girls +of remarkable beauty, arrived, and ordered a private room, where they +were served with a sumptuous repast. At its close one of the party +raised his glass and proposed, "Success to the cholera!" The toast was +received with riotous shouts of applause, and all drank it with +delirious laughter. That very night every one of the revelers died in +horrible agony; their bodies, as usual, were thrust into flimsy coffins +and buried one on top of another in a hole hastily dug for the purpose. +Dismal stories like these reached us every day, but we were not +morbidly impressed by them. Stella was a living charm against +pestilence; her innocent playfulness and prattle kept us amused and +employed, and surrounded us with an atmosphere that was physically and +mentally wholesome. +</P> + +<P> +One morning—one of the very hottest mornings of that scorching +month—I woke at an earlier hour than usual. A suggestion of possible +coolness in the air tempted me to rise and stroll through the garden. +My wife slept soundly at my side. I dressed softly, without disturbing +her. As I was about to leave the room some instinct made me turn back +to look at her once more. How lovely she was! she smiled in her sleep! +My heart beat as I gazed—she had been mine for three years—mine +only!—and my passionate admiration and love of her had increased in +proportion to that length of time. I raised one of the scattered golden +locks that lay shining like a sunbeam on the pillow, and kissed it +tenderly. Then—all unconscious of my fate—I left her. +</P> + +<P> +A faint breeze greeted me as I sauntered slowly along the garden +walks—a breath of wind scarce strong enough to flutter the leaves, yet +it had a salt savor in it that was refreshing after the tropical heat +of the past night. I was at that time absorbed in the study of Plato, +and as I walked, my mind occupied itself with many high problems and +deep questions suggested by that great teacher. Lost in a train of +profound yet pleasant thought, I strayed on further than I intended, +and found myself at last in a by-path, long disused by our household—a +winding footway leading downward in the direction of the harbor. It was +shady and cool, and I followed the road almost unconsciously, till I +caught a glimpse of masts and white sails gleaming through the leafage +of the overarching trees. I was then about to retrace my steps, when I +was startled by a sudden sound. It was a low moan of intense pain—a +smothered cry that seemed to be wrung from some animal in torture. I +turned in the direction whence it came, and saw, lying face downward on +the grass, a boy—a little fruit-seller of eleven or twelve years of +age. His basket of wares stood beside him, a tempting pile of peaches, +grapes, pomegranates, and melons—lovely but dangerous eating in +cholera times. I touched the lad on the shoulder. +</P> + +<P> +"What ails you?" I asked. He twisted himself convulsively and turned +his face toward me—a beautiful face, though livid with anguish. +</P> + +<P> +"The plague, signor!" he moaned; "the plague! Keep away from me, for +the love of God! I am dying!" +</P> + +<P> +I hesitated. For myself I had no fear. But my wife—my child—for their +sakes it was necessary to be prudent. Yet I could not leave this poor +boy unassisted. I resolved to go to the harbor in search of medical +aid. With this idea in my mind I spoke cheerfully. +</P> + +<P> +"Courage, my boy," I said; "do not lose heart! All illness is not the +plague. Rest here till I return; I am going to fetch a doctor." +</P> + +<P> +The little fellow looked at me with wondering, pathetic eyes, and tried +to smile. He pointed to his throat, and made an effort to speak, but +vainly. Then he crouched down in the grass and writhed in torture like +a hunted animal wounded to the death. I left him and walked on rapidly; +reaching the harbor, where the heat was sulphurous and intense, I found +a few scared-looking men standing aimlessly about, to whom I explained +the boy's case, and appealed for assistance. They all hung back—none +of them would accompany me, not even for the gold I offered. Cursing +their cowardice, I hurried on in search of a physician, and found one +at last, a sallow Frenchman, who listened with obvious reluctance to my +account of the condition in which I had left the little fruit-seller, +and at the end shook his head decisively, and refused to move. +</P> + +<P> +"He is as good as dead," he observed, with cold brevity. "Better call +at the house of the Miserecordia; the brethren will fetch his body." +</P> + +<P> +"What!" I cried; "you will nor try if you can save him?" +</P> + +<P> +The Frenchman bowed with satirical suavity. +</P> + +<P> +"Monsieur must pardon me! My own health would be seriously endangered +by touching a cholera corpse. Allow me to wish monsieur the good-day!" +</P> + +<P> +And he disappeared, shutting his door in my face. I was thoroughly +exasperated, and though the heat and the fetid odor of the sun-baked +streets made me feel faint and sick, I forgot all danger for myself as +I stood in the plague-stricken city, wondering what I should do next to +obtain succor. A grave, kind voice saluted my ear. +</P> + +<P> +"You seek aid, my son?" +</P> + +<P> +I looked up. A tall monk, whose cowl partly concealed his pale, but +resolute features, stood at my side—one of those heroes who, for the +love of Christ, came forth at that terrible time and faced the +pestilence fearlessly, where the blatant boasters of no-religion +scurried away like frightened hares from the very scent of danger. I +greeted him with an obeisance, and explained my errand. +</P> + +<P> +"I will go at once," he said, with an accent of pity in his voice. "But +I fear the worst. I have remedies with me; I may not be too late." +</P> + +<P> +"I will accompany you," I said, eagerly. "One would not let a dog die +unaided; much less this poor lad, who seems friendless." +</P> + +<P> +The monk looked at me attentively as we walked on together. +</P> + +<P> +"You are not residing in Naples?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +I gave him my name, which he knew by repute, and described the position +of my villa. +</P> + +<P> +"Up on that height we enjoy perfect health," I added. "I cannot +understand the panic that prevails in the city. The plague is fostered +by such cowardice." +</P> + +<P> +"Of course!" he answered, calmly. "But what will you? The people here +love pleasure. Their hearts are set solely on this life. When death, +common to all, enters their midst, they are like babes scared by a dark +shadow. Religion itself"—here he sighed deeply—"has no hold upon +them." +</P> + +<P> +"But you, my father," I began, and stopped abruptly, conscious of a +sharp throbbing pain in my temples. +</P> + +<P> +"I," he answered, gravely, "am the servant of Christ. As such, the +plague has no terrors for me. Unworthy as I am, for my Master's sake I +am ready—nay, willing—to face all deaths." +</P> + +<P> +He spoke firmly, yet without arrogance. I looked at him in a certain +admiration, and was about to speak, when a curious dizziness overcame +me, and I caught at his arm to save myself from falling. The street +rocked like a ship at sea, and the skies whirled round me in circles of +blue fire. The feeling slowly passed, and I heard the monk's voice, as +though it were a long way off, asking me anxiously what was the matter. +I forced a smile. +</P> + +<P> +"It is the heat, I think," I said, in feeble tones like those of a very +aged man. "I am faint—giddy. You had best leave me here—see to the +boy. Oh, my God!" +</P> + +<P> +This last exclamation was wrung out of me by sheer anguish. My limbs +refused to support me, and a pang, cold and bitter as though naked +steel had been thrust through my body, caused me to sink down upon the +pavement in a kind of convulsion. The tall and sinewy monk, without a +moment's hesitation, dragged me up and half carried, half led me into a +kind of auberge, or restaurant for the poorer classes. Here he placed +me in a recumbent position on one of the wooden benches, and called up +the proprietor of the place, a man to whom he seemed to be well known. +Though suffering acutely I was conscious, and could hear and see +everything that passed. +</P> + +<P> +"Attend to him well, Pietro—it is the rich Count Fabio Romani. Thou +wilt not lose by thy pains. I will return within an hour." +</P> + +<P> +"The Count Romani! Santissima Madonna! He has caught the plague!" +</P> + +<P> +"Thou fool!" exclaimed the monk, fiercely. "How canst thou tell? A +stroke of the sun is not the plague, thou coward! See to him, or by St. +Peter and the keys there shall be no place for thee in heaven!" +</P> + +<P> +The trembling innkeeper looked terrified at this menace, and +submissively approached me with pillows, which he placed under my head. +The monk, meanwhile, held a glass to my lips containing some medicinal +mixture, which I swallowed mechanically. +</P> + +<P> +"Rest here, my son," he said, addressing me in soothing tones. "These +people are good-natured. I will but hasten to the boy for whom you +sought assistance—in less than an hour I will be with you again." +</P> + +<P> +I laid a detaining hand on his arm. +</P> + +<P> +"Stay," I murmured, feebly, "let me know the worst. Is this the plague?" +</P> + +<P> +"I hope not!" he replied, compassionately. "But what if it be? You are +young and strong enough to fight against it without fear." +</P> + +<P> +"I have no fear," I said. "But, father, promise me one thing—send no +word of my illness to my wife—swear it! Even if I am +unconscious—dead—swear that I shall not be taken to the villa. Swear +it! I cannot rest till I have your word." +</P> + +<P> +"I swear it most willingly, my son," he answered, solemnly. "By all I +hold sacred, I will respect your wishes." +</P> + +<P> +I was infinitely relieved—the safety of those I loved was assured—and +I thanked him by a mute gesture. I was too weak to say more. He +disappeared, and my brain wandered into a chaos of strange fancies. Let +me try to revolve these delusions. I plainly see the interior of the +common room where I lie. There is the timid innkeeper—he polishes his +glasses and bottles, casting ever and anon a scared glance in my +direction. Groups of men look in at the door, and, seeing me, hurry +away. I observe all this—I know where I am—yet I am also climbing the +steep passes of an Alpine gorge—the cold snow is at my feet—I hear +the rush and roar of a thousand torrents. A crimson cloud floats above +the summit of a white glacier—it parts asunder gradually, and in its +bright center a face smiles forth! "Nina! my love, my wife, my soul!" I +cry aloud. I stretch out my arms—I clasp her!—bah! it is this good +rogue of an innkeeper who holds me in his musty embrace! I struggle +with him fiercely—pantingly. +</P> + +<P> +"Fool!" I shriek in his ear. "Let me go to her—her lips pout for +kisses—let me go!" +</P> + +<P> +Another man advances and seizes me; he and the innkeeper force me back +on the pillows—they overcome me, and the utter incapacity of a +terrible exhaustion steals away my strength. I cease to struggle. +Pietro and his assistant look down upon me. +</P> + +<P> +"E morto!" they whisper one to the other. +</P> + +<P> +I hear them and smile. Dead? Not I! The scorching sunlight streams +through the open door of the inn—the thirsty flies buzz with +persistent loudness—some voices are singing "La Fata di Amalfi"—I can +distinguish the words— +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + "Chiagnaro la mia sventura<BR> + Si non tuorne chiu, Rosella!<BR> + Tu d' Amalfi la chiu bella,<BR> + Tu na Fata si pe me!<BR> + Viene, vie, regina mie,<BR> + Viene curre a chisto core,<BR> + Ca non c'e non c'e sciore,<BR> + Non c'e Stella comm'a te!"<BR> + [Footnote: A popular song in the Neapolitan dialect.]<BR> +</P> + +<P> +That is a true song, Nina mia! "Non c'e Stella comm' a te!" What did +Guido say? "Purer than the flawless diamond—unapproachable as the +furthest star!" That foolish Pietro still polishes his wine-bottles. I +see him—his meek round face is greasy with heat and dust; but I cannot +understand how he comes to be here at all, for I am on the banks of a +tropical river where huge palms grow wild, and drowsy alligators lie +asleep in the sun. Their large jaws are open—their small eyes glitter +greenly. A light boat glides over the silent water—in it I behold the +erect lithe figure of an Indian. His features are strangely similar to +those of Guido. He draws a long thin shining blade of steel as he +approaches. Brave fellow!—he means to attack single-handed the cruel +creatures who lie in wait for him on the sultry shore. He springs to +land—I watch him with a weird fascination. He passes the +alligators—he seems not to be aware of their presence—he comes with +swift, unhesitating step to ME—it is I whom he seeks—it is in MY +heart that he plunges the cold steel dagger, and draws it out again +dripping with blood! Once—twice—thrice!—and yet I cannot die! I +writhe—I moan in bitter anguish! Then something dark comes between me +and the glaring sun—something cool and shadowy, against which I fling +myself despairingly. Two dark eyes look steadily into mine, and a voice +speaks: +</P> + +<P> +"Be calm, my son, be calm. Commend thyself to Christ!" +</P> + +<P> +It is my friend the monk. I recognize him gladly. He has returned from +his errand of mercy. Though I can scarcely speak, I hear myself asking +for news of the boy. The holy man crosses himself devoutly. +</P> + +<P> +"May his young soul rest in peace! I found him dead." +</P> + +<P> +I am dreamily astonished at this. Dead—so soon! I cannot understand +it; and I drift off again into a state of confused imaginings. As I +look back now to that time, I find I have no specially distinct +recollection of what afterward happened to me. I know I suffered +intense, intolerable pain—that I was literally tortured on a rack of +excruciating anguish—and that through all the delirium of my senses I +heard a muffled, melancholy sound like a chant or prayer. I have an +idea that I also heard the tinkle of the bell that accompanies the +Host, but my brain reeled more wildly with each moment, and I cannot be +certain of this. I remember shrieking out after what seemed an eternity +of pain, "Not to the villa! no, no, not there! You shall not take +me—my curse on him who disobeys me!" +</P> + +<P> +I remember then a fearful sensation, as of being dragged into a deep +whirlpool, from whence I stretched up appealing hands and eyes to the +monk who stood above me—I caught a drowning glimpse of a silver +crucifix glittering before my gaze, and at last, with one loud cry for +help, I sunk—down—down! into an abyss of black night and nothingness! +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap03"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER III. +</H3> + +<P> +There followed a long drowsy time of stillness and shadow. I seemed to +have fallen in some deep well of delicious oblivion and obscurity. +Dream-like images still flitted before my fancy—these were at first +undefinable, but after awhile they took more certain shapes. Strange +fluttering creatures hovered about me—lonely eyes stared at me from a +visible deep gloom; long white bony fingers grasping at nothing made +signs to me of warning or menace. Then—very gradually, there dawned +upon my sense of vision a cloudy red mist like a stormy sunset, and +from the middle of the blood-like haze a huge black hand descended +toward me. It pounced upon my chest—it grasped my throat in its +monstrous clutch, and held me down with a weight of iron. I struggled +violently—I strove to cry out, but that terrific pressure took from me +all power of utterance. I twisted myself to right and left in an +endeavor to escape—but my tyrant of the sable hand had bound me in on +all sides. Yet I continued to wrestle with the cruel opposing force +that strove to overwhelm me—little by little—inch by inch—so! At +last! One more struggle—victory! I woke! Merciful God! Where was I? In +what horrible atmosphere—in what dense darkness? Slowly, as my senses +returned to me, I remembered my recent illness. The monk—the man +Pietro—where were they? What had they done to me? By degrees, I +realized that I was lying straight down upon my back—the couch was +surely very hard? Why had they taken the pillows from under my head? A +pricking sensation darted through my veins—I felt my own hands +curiously—they were warm, and my pulse beat strongly, though fitfully. +But what was this that hindered my breathing? Air—air! I must have +air! I put up my hands—horror! They struck against a hard opposing +substance above me. Quick as lightning then the truth flashed upon my +mind! I had been buried—buried alive; this wooden prison that inclosed +me was a coffin! A frenzy surpassing that of an infuriated tiger took +swift possession of me—with hands and nails I tore and scratched at +the accursed boards—with all the force of my shoulders and arms I +toiled to wrench open the closed lid! My efforts were fruitless! I grew +more ferociously mad with rage and terror. How easy were all deaths +compared to one like this! I was suffocating—I felt my eyes start from +their sockets—blood sprung from my mouth and nostrils—and icy drops +of sweat trickled from my forehead. I paused, gasping for breath. Then, +suddenly nerving myself for one more wild effort, I hurled my limbs +with all the force of agony and desperation against one side of my +narrow prison. It cracked—it split asunder!—and then—a new and +horrid fear beset me, and I crouched back, panting heavily. If—if I +were buried in the ground—so ran my ghastly thoughts—of what use to +break open the coffin and let in the mold—the damp wormy mold, rich +with the bones of the dead—the penetrating mold that would choke up my +mouth and eyes, and seal me into silence forever! My mind quailed at +this idea—my brain tottered on the verge of madness! I laughed—think +of it!—and my laugh sounded in my ears like the last rattle in the +throat of a dying man. But I could breathe more easily—even in the +stupefaction of my fears—I was conscious of air. Yes!—the blessed air +had rushed in somehow. Revived and encouraged as I recognized this +fact, I felt with both hands till I found the crevice I had made, and +then with frantic haste and strength I pulled and dragged at the wood, +till suddenly the whole side of the coffin gave way, and I was able to +force up the lid. I stretched out my arms—no weight of earth impeded +their movements—I felt nothing but air—empty air. Yielding to my +first strong impulse, I leaped out of the hateful box, and fell—fell +some little distance, bruising my hands and knees on what seemed to be +a stone pavement. Something weighty fell also, with a dull crashing +thud close to me. The darkness was impenetrable. But there was +breathing room, and the atmosphere was cool and refreshing. With some +pain and difficulty I raised myself to a sitting position where I had +fallen. My limbs were stiff and cramped as well as wounded, and I +shivered as with strong ague. But my senses were clear—the tangled +chain of my disordered thoughts became even and connected—my previous +mad excitement gradually calmed, and I began to consider my condition. +I had certainly been buried alive—there was no doubt of that. Intense +pain had, I suppose, resolved itself into a long trance of +unconsciousness—the people of the inn where I had been taken ill had +at once believed me to be dead of cholera, and with the panic-stricken, +indecent haste common in all Italy, especially at a time of plague, had +thrust me into one of those flimsy coffins which were then being +manufactured by scores in Naples—mere shells of thin deal, nailed +together with clumsy hurry and fear. But how I blessed their wretched +construction! Had I been laid in a stronger casket, who knows if even +the most desperate frenzy of my strength might not have proved +unavailing! I shuddered at the thought. Yet the question +remained—Where was I? I reviewed my case from all points, and for some +time could arrive at no satisfactory conclusion. Stay, though! I +remembered that I had told the monk my name; he knew that I was the +only descendant of the rich Romani family. What followed? Why, +naturally, the good father had only done what his duty called upon him +to do. He had seen me laid in the vault of my ancestors—the great +Romani vault that had never been opened since my father's body was +carried to its last resting-place with all the solemn pomp and +magnificence of a wealthy nobleman's funeral obsequies. The more I +thought of this the more probable it seemed. The Romani vault! Its +forbidding gloom had terrified me as a lad when I followed my father's +coffin to the stone niche assigned to it, and I had turned my eyes away +in shuddering pain when I was told to look at the heavy oaken casket +hung with tattered velvet and ornamented with tarnished silver, which +contained all that was left of my mother, who died young. I had felt +sick and faint and cold, and had only recovered myself when I stood out +again in the free air with the blue dome of heaven high above me. And +now I was shut in the same vault—a prisoner—with what hope of escape? +I reflected. The entrance to the vault, I remembered, was barred by a +heavy door of closely twisted iron—from thence a flight of steep steps +led downward—downward to where in all probability I now was. Suppose I +could in the dense darkness feel my way to those steps and climb up to +that door—of what avail? It was locked—nay, barred—and as it was +situated in a remote part of the burial-ground, there was no likelihood +of even the keeper of the cemetery passing by it for days—perhaps not +for weeks. Then must I starve? Or die of thirst? Tortured by these +imaginings, I rose up from the pavement and stood erect. My feet were +bare, and the cold stone on which I stood chilled me to the marrow. It +was fortunate for me, I thought, that they had buried me as a cholera +corpse—they had left me half-clothed for fear of infection. That is, I +had my flannel shirt on and my usual walking trousers. Something there +was, too, round my neck; I felt it, and as I did so a flood of sweet +and sorrowful memories rushed over me. It was a slight gold chain, and +on it hung a locket containing the portraits of my wife and child. I +drew it out in the darkness; I covered it with passionate kisses and +tears—the first I had shed since my death—like trance-tears scalding +and bitter welled into my eyes. Life was worth living while Nina's +smile lightened the world! I resolved to fight for existence, no matter +what dire horrors should be yet in store for me. Nina—my love—my +beautiful one! Her face gleamed out upon me in the pestilent gloom of +the charnel-house; her eyes beckoned me—her young faithful eyes that +were now, I felt sure, drowned in weeping for my supposed death. I +seemed to see my tender-hearted darling sobbing alone in the empty +silence of the room that had witnessed a thousand embraces between +herself and me; her lovely hair disheveled; her sweet face pale and +haggard with the bitterness of grief! Baby Stella, too, no doubt she +would wonder, poor innocent! why I did not come to swing her as usual +under the orange boughs. And Guido—brave and true friend! I thought of +him with tenderness. I felt I knew how deep and lasting would be his +honest regret for my loss. Oh, I would leave no means of escape +untried; I would find some way out of this grim vault! How overjoyed +they would all be to see me again—to know that I was not dead after +all! What a welcome I should receive! How Nina would nestle into my +arms; how my little child would cling to me; how Guido would clasp me +by the hand! I smiled as I pictured the scene of rejoicing at the dear +old villa—the happy home sanctified by perfect friendship and faithful +love! +</P> + +<P> +A deep hollow sound booming suddenly on my ears startled me—one! two! +three! I counted the strokes up to twelve. It was some church bell +tolling the hour. My pleasing fancies dispersed—I again faced the +drear reality of my position. Twelve o'clock! Midday or midnight? I +could not tell. I began to calculate. It was early morning when I had +been taken ill—not much past eight when I had met the monk and sought +his assistance for the poor little fruit-seller who had after all +perished alone in his sufferings. Now supposing my illness had lasted +some hours, I might have fallen into a trance—died—as those around me +had thought, somewhere about noon. In that case they would certainly +have buried me with as little delay as possible—before sunset at all +events. Thinking these points over one by one, I came to the conclusion +that the bell I had just heard must have struck midnight—the midnight +of the very day of my burial. I shivered; a kind of nervous dread stole +over me. I have always been physically courageous, but at the same +time, in spite of my education, I am somewhat superstitious—what +Neapolitan is not? it runs in the southern blood. And there was +something unutterably fearful in the sound of that midnight bell +clanging harshly on the ears of a man pent up alive in a funeral vault +with the decaying bodies of his ancestors close within reach of his +hand! I tried to conquer my feelings—to summon up my fortitude. I +endeavored to reason out the best method of escape. I resolved to feel +my way, if possible, to the steps of the vault, and with this idea in +my mind I put out my hands and began to move along slowly and with the +utmost care. What was that? I stopped; I listened; the blood curdled in +my veins! A shrill cry, piercing, prolonged, and melancholy, echoed +through the hollow arches of my tomb. A cold perspiration broke out all +over my body—my heart beat so loudly that I could hear it thumping +against my ribs. Again—again—that weird shriek, followed by a whir +and flap of wings. I breathed again. +</P> + +<P> +"It is an owl," I said to myself, ashamed of my fears; "a poor innocent +bird—a companion and watcher of the dead, and therefore its voice is +full of sorrowful lamentation—but it is harmless," and I crept on with +increased caution. Suddenly out of the dense darkness there stared two +large yellow eyes, glittering with fiendish hunger and cruelty. For a +moment I was startled, and stepped back; the creature flew at me with +the ferocity of a tiger-cat! I fought with the horrible thing in all +directions; it wheeled round my head, it pounced toward my face, it +beat me with its large wings—wings that I could feel but not see; the +yellow eyes alone shone in the thick gloom like the eyes of some +vindictive demon! I struck at it right and left—the revolting combat +lasted some moments—I grew sick and dizzy, yet I battled on +recklessly. At last, thank Heaven! the huge owl was vanquished; it +fluttered backward and downward, apparently exhausted, giving one wild +screech of baffled fury, as its lamp-like eyes disappeared in the +darkness. Breathless, but not subdued—every nerve in my body quivering +with excitement—I pursued my way, as I thought, toward the stone +staircase feeling the air with my outstretched hands as I groped along. +In a little while I met with an obstruction—it was hard and cold—a +stone wall, surely? I felt it up and down and found a hollow in it—was +this the first step of the stair? I wondered; it seemed very high. I +touched it cautiously—suddenly I came in contact with something soft +and clammy to the touch like moss or wet velvet. Fingering this with a +kind of repulsion, I soon traced out the oblong shape of a coffin +Curiously enough, I was not affected much by the discovery. I found +myself monotonously counting the bits of raised metal which served, as +I judged, for its ornamentation. Eight bits lengthwise—and the soft +wet stuff between—four bits across; then a pang shot through me, and I +drew my hand away quickly, as I considered—WHOSE coffin was this? My +father's? Or was I thus plucking, like a man in delirium, at the +fragments of velvet on that cumbrous oaken casket wherein lay the +sacred ashes of my mother's perished beauty? I roused myself from the +apathy into which I had fallen. All the pains I had taken to find my +way through the vault were wasted; I was lost in the profound gloom, +and knew not where to turn. The horror of my situation presented itself +to me with redoubled force. I began to be tormented with thirst. I fell +on my knees and groaned aloud. +</P> + +<P> +"God of infinite mercy!" I cried. "Saviour of the world! By the souls +of the sacred dead whom Thou hast in Thy holy keeping, have pity upon +me! Oh, my mother! if indeed thine earthly remains are near me—think +of me, sweet angel in that heaven where thy spirit dwells at +rest—plead for me and save me, or let me die now and be tortured no +more!" +</P> + +<P> +I uttered these words aloud, and the sound of my wailing voice ringing +through the somber arches of the vault was strange and full of +fantastic terror to my own ears. I knew that were my agony much further +prolonged I should go mad. And I dared not picture to myself the +frightful things which a maniac might be capable of, shut up in such a +place of death and darkness, with moldering corpses for companions! I +remained on my knees, my face buried in my hands. I forced myself into +comparative calmness, and strove to preserve the equilibrium of my +distracted mind. Hush! What exquisite far-off floating voice of cheer +was that? I raised my head and listened, entranced! +</P> + +<P> +"Jug, jug, Jug! lodola, lodola! trill-lil-lil! sweet, sweet, sweet!" +</P> + +<P> +It was a nightingale. Familiar, delicious, angel-throated bird! How I +blessed thee in that dark hour of despair! How I praised God for thine +innocent existence! How I sprung up and laughed and wept for joy, as, +all unconscious of me, thou didst shake out a shower of pearly +warblings on the breast of the soothed air! Heavenly messenger of +consolation!—even now I think of thee with tenderness—for thy sweet +sake all birds possess me as their worshiper; humanity has grown +hideous in my sight, but the singing-life of the woods and hills—how +pure, how fresh!—the nearest thing to happiness on this side heaven! +</P> + +<P> +A rush of strength and courage invigorated me. A new idea entered my +brain. I determined to follow the voice of the nightingale. It sung on +sweetly, encouragingly—and I began afresh my journeyings through the +darkness. I fancied that the bird was perched on one of the trees +outside the entrance of the vault, and that if I tried to get within +closer hearing of its voice, I should most likely be thus guided to the +very staircase I had been so painfully seeking. I stumbled along +slowly. I felt feeble, and my limbs shook under me. This time nothing +impeded my progress; the nightingale's liquid notes floated nearer and +nearer, and hope, almost exhausted, sprung up again in my heart. I was +scarcely conscious of my own movements. I seemed to be drawn along like +one in a dream by the golden thread of the bird's sweet singing. All at +once I caught my foot against a stone and fell forward with some force, +but I felt no pain—my limbs were too numb to be sensible of any fresh +suffering. I raised my heavy, aching eyes in the darkness; as I did so +I uttered an exclamation of thanksgiving. A slender stream of +moonlight, no thicker than the stem of an arrow, slanted downward +toward me, and showed me that I had at last reached the spot I +sought—in fact, I had fallen upon the lowest step of the stone +stairway. I could not distinguish the entrance door of the vault, but I +knew that it must be at the summit of the steep ascent. I was too weary +to move further just then. I lay still where I was, staring at the +solitary moon-ray, and listening to the nightingale, whose rapturous +melodies now rang out upon my ears with full distinctness. ONE! The +harsh-toned bell I had heard before clanged forth the hour. It would +soon be morning; I resolved to rest till then. Utterly worn out in body +and mind, I laid down my head upon the cold stones as readily as if +they had been the softest cushions, and in a few moments forgot all my +miseries in a profound sleep. +</P> + +<HR ALIGN="center" WIDTH="60%"> + +<P> +I must have slumbered for some time, when I was suddenly awakened by a +suffocating sensation of faintness and nausea, accompanied by a sharp +pain on my neck as though some creatures were stinging me. I put my +hand up to the place—God! shall I ever forget the feel of the THING my +trembling fingers closed upon! It was fastened in my flesh—a winged, +clammy, breathing horror! It clung to me with a loathly persistency +that nearly drove me frantic, and wild with disgust and terror I +screamed aloud! I closed both hands convulsively upon its fat, soft +body—I literally tore it from my flesh and flung it as far back as I +could into the interior blackness of the vault. For a time I believe I +was indeed mad—the echoes rang with the piercing shrieks I could not +restrain! Silent at last through sneer exhaustion I glared about me. +The moonbeam had vanished, in its place lay a shaft of pale gray light, +by which I could easily distinguish the whole length of the staircase +and the closed gateway it its summit. I rushed up the ascent with the +feverish haste of a madman—I grasped the iron grating with both hands +and shook it fiercely It was firm as a rock, locked fast. I called for +help. Utter silence answered me. I peered through the closely twisted +bars. I saw the grass, the drooping boughs of trees, and straight +before my line of vision a little piece of the blessed sky, opal tinted +and faintly blushing with the consciousness of the approaching sunrise +I drank in the sweet fresh air, a long trailing branch of the wild +grape vine hung near me; its leaves were covered thickly with dew. I +squeezed one hand through the grating and gathered a few of these green +morsels of coolness—I ate them greedily. They seemed to me more +delicious than any thing I had ever tasted, they relieved the burning +fever of my parched throat and tongue. The glimpse of the trees and sky +soothed and calmed me. There was a gentle twittering of awaking birds, +my nightingale had ceased singing. +</P> + +<P> +I began to recover slowly from my nervous terrors, and leaning against +the gloomy arch of my charnel house I took courage to glance backward +down the steep stairway up which I had sprung with such furious +precipitation. Something white lay in a corner on the seventh step from +the top. Curious to see what it was, I descended cautiously and with +some reluctance; it was the half of a thick waxen taper, such as are +used in the Catholic ritual at the burial of the dead. No doubt it had +been thrown down there by some careless acolyte, to save himself the +trouble of carrying it after the service had ended. I looked at it +meditatively. If I only had a light! I plunged my hands half +abstractedly into the pockets of my trousers—something jingled! Truly +they had buried me in haste. My purse, a small bunch of keys, my +card-case—one by one I drew them out and examined them +surprisedly—they looked so familiar, and withal so strange! I searched +again; and this time found something of real value to one in my +condition—a small box of wax vestas. Now, had they left me my +cigar-case? No, that was gone. It was a valuable silver one—no doubt +the monk, who attended my supposed last moments, had taken it, together +with my watch and chain, to my wife. +</P> + +<P> +Well, I could not smoke, but I could strike a light. And there was the +funeral taper ready for use. The sun had not yet risen. I must +certainly wait till broad day before I could hope to attract by my +shouts any stray person who might pass through the cemetery. Meanwhile, +a fantastic idea suggested itself. I would go and look at my own +coffin! Why not? It would be a novel experience. The sense of fear had +entirely deserted me; the possession of that box of matches was +sufficient to endow me with absolute hardihood. I picked up the +church-candle and lighted it; it gave at first a feeble flicker, but +afterward burned with a clear and steady flame. Shading it with one +hand from the draught, I gave a parting glance at the fair daylight +that peeped smilingly in through my prison door, and then went +down—down again into the dismal place where I had passed the night in +such indescribable agony. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap04"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER IV. +</H3> + +<P> +Numbers of lizards glided away from my feet as I descended the steps, +and when the flare of my torch penetrated the darkness I heard a +scurrying of wings mingled with various hissing sounds and wild cries. +I knew now—none better—what weird and abominable things had +habitation in this storehouse of the dead, but I felt I could defy them +all, armed with the light I carried. The way that had seemed so long in +the dense gloom was brief and easy, and I soon found myself at the +scene of my unexpected awakening from sleep. The actual body of the +vault was square-shaped, like a small room inclosed within high +walls—walls which were scooped out in various places so as to form +niches in which the narrow caskets containing the bones of all the +departed members of the Romani family were placed one above the other +like so many bales of goods arranged evenly on the shelves of an +ordinary warehouse. I held the candle high above my head and looked +about me with a morbid interest. I soon perceived what I sought—my own +coffin. +</P> + +<P> +There it was in a niche some five feet from the ground, its splintered +portions bearing decided witness to the dreadful struggle I had made to +obtain my freedom. I advanced and examined it closely. It was a frail +shell enough—unlined, unornamented—a wretched sample of the +undertaker's art, though God knows <I>I</I> had no fault to find with its +workmanship, nor with the haste of him who fashioned it. Something +shone at the bottom of it—it was a crucifix of ebony and silver. That +good monk again! His conscience had not allowed him to see me buried +without this sacred symbol; he had perhaps laid it on my breast as the +last service he could render me; it had fallen from thence, no doubt, +when I had wrenched my way through the boards that inclosed me. I took +it and kissed it reverently—I resolved that if ever I met the holy +father again, I would tell him my story, and, as a proof of its truth, +restore to him this cross, which he would be sure to recognize. Had +they put my name on the coffin-lid? I wondered. Yes, there it +was—painted on the wood in coarse, black letters, "FABIO ROMANI"—then +followed the date of my birth; then a short Latin inscription, stating +that I had died of cholera on August 15, 1884. That was yesterday—only +yesterday! I seemed to have lived a century since then. +</P> + +<P> +I turned to look at my father's resting-place. The velvet on his coffin +hung from its sides in moldering remnants—but it was not so utterly +damp-destroyed and worm-eaten as the soaked and indistinguishable +material that still clung to the massive oaken chest in the next niche, +where SHE lay—she from whose tender arms I had received my first +embrace—she in whose loving eyes I had first beheld the world! I knew +by a sort of instinct that it must have been with the frayed fragments +on her coffin that my fingers had idly played in the darkness. I +counted as before the bits of metal—eight bits length-wise, and four +bits across—and on my father's close casket there were ten silver +plates lengthwise and five across. My poor little mother! I thought of +her picture—it hung in my library at home; the picture of a young, +smiling, dark-haired beauty, whose delicate tint was as that of a peach +ripening in the summer sun. All that loveliness had decayed into—what? +I shuddered involuntarily—then I knelt humbly before those two sad +hollows in the cold stone, and implored the blessing of the dead and +gone beloved ones to whom, while they lived, my welfare had been dear. +While I occupied this kneeling position the flame of my torch fell +directly on some small object that glittered with remarkable luster. I +went to examine it; it was a jeweled pendant composed of one large +pear-shaped pearl, set round with fine rose brilliants! Surprised at +this discovery, I looked about to see where such a valuable gem could +possible have come from I then noticed an unusually large coffin lying +sideways on the ground; it appeared as if it had fallen suddenly and +with force, for a number of loose stones and mortar were sprinkled near +it. Holding the light close to the ground, I observed that a niche +exactly below the one in which <I>I</I> had been laid was empty, and that a +considerable portion of the wall there was broken away. I then +remembered that when I had sprung so desperately out of my narrow box I +had heard something fall with a crash beside me, This was the thing, +then—this long coffin, big enough to contain a man seven feet high and +broad in proportion. What gigantic ancestor had I irreverently +dislodged?—and was it from a skeleton throat that the rare jewel which +I held in my hand had been accidentally shaken? +</P> + +<P> +My curiosity was excited, and I bent close to examine the lid of this +funeral chest. There was no name on it—no mark of any sort, save +one—a dagger roughly painted in red. Here was a mystery! I resolved to +penetrate it. I set up my candle in a little crevice of one of the +empty niches, and laid the pearl and diamond pendant beside it, thus +disembarrassing myself of all incumbrance. The huge coffin lay on its +side, as I have said; its uppermost corner was splintered; I applied +both hands to the work of breaking further asunder these already split +portions. As I did so a leathern pouch or bag rolled out and fell at my +feet. I picked it up and opened it—it was full of gold pieces! More +excited than ever, I seized a large pointed stone, and by the aid of +this extemporized instrument, together with the force of my own arms, +hands, and feet, I managed, after some ten minutes' hard labor, to +break open the mysterious casket. +</P> + +<P> +When I had accomplished this deed I stared at the result like a man +stupefied. No moldering horror met my gaze—no blanched or decaying +bones; no grinning skull mocked me with its hollow eye-sockets. I +looked upon a treasure worthy of an emperor's envy! The big coffin was +literally lined and packed with incalculable wealth. Fifty large +leathern bags tied with coarse cord lay uppermost; more than half of +these were crammed with gold coins, the rest were full of priceless +gems—necklaces, tiaras, bracelets, watches, chains, and other articles +of feminine adornment were mingled with loose precious +stones—diamonds, rubies, emeralds, and opals, some of unusual size and +luster, some uncut, and some all ready for the jeweler's setting. +Beneath these bags were packed a number of pieces of silk, velvet, and +cloth of gold, each piece being wrapped by itself in a sort of +oil-skin, strongly perfumed with camphor and other spices. There were +also three lengths of old lace, fine as gossamer, of matchless artistic +design, in perfect condition. Among these materials lay two large trays +of solid gold workmanship, most exquisitely engraved and ornamented, +also four gold drinking-cups, of quaint and massive construction. Other +valuables and curious trifles there were, such as an ivory statuette of +Psyche on a silver pedestal, a waistband of coins linked together, a +painted fan with a handle set in amber and turquois, a fine steel +dagger in a jeweled sheath, and a mirror framed in old pearls. Last, +but not least, at the very bottom of the chest lay rolls upon rolls of +paper money amounting to some millions of francs—in all far surpassing +what I had myself formerly enjoyed from my own revenues. I plunged my +hands deep in the leathern bags; I fingered the rich materials; all +this treasure was mine! I had found it in my own burial vault! I had +surely the right to consider it as my property? I began to +consider—how could it have been placed there without my knowledge? The +answer to this question occurred to me at once. Brigands! Of +course!—what a fool I was not to have thought of them before; the +dagger painted on the lid of the chest should have guided me to the +solution of the mystery. A red dagger was the recognized sign-manual of +a bold and dangerous brigand named Carmelo Neri, who, with his reckless +gang, haunted the vicinity of Palermo. +</P> + +<P> +"So!" I thought, "this is one of your bright ideas, my cut-throat +Carmelo! Cunning rogue! you calculated well—you thought that none +would disturb the dead, much less break open a coffin in search of +gold. Admirably planned, my Carmelo! But this time you must play a +losing game! A supposed dead man coming to life again deserves +something for his trouble, and I should be a fool not to accept the +goods the gods and the robbers provide. An ill-gotten hoard of wealth, +no doubt; but better in my hands than in yours friend Carmelo!" +</P> + +<P> +And I meditated for some minutes on this strange affair If, indeed—and +I saw no reason to doubt it—I had chanced to find some of the spoils +of the redoubtable Neri, this great chest must have been brought over +by sea from Palermo. Probably four stout rascals had carried the +supposed coffin in a mock solemn procession, under the pretense of its +containing the body of a comrade. These thieves have a high sense of +humor. Yet the question remained to be solved—How had they gained +access to MY ancestral vault, unless by means of a false key? All at +once I was left in darkness, My candle went out as though blown upon by +a gust of air. I had my matches, and of course could easily light it +again, but I was puzzled to imagine the cause of its sudden extinction. +I looked about me in the temporary gloom and saw, to my surprise, a ray +of light proceeding from a corner of the very niche where I had fixed +the candle between two stones. I approached and put my hand to the +place; a strong draught blew through a hole large enough to admit the +passage of three fingers. I quickly relighted my torch, and examining +this hole and the back of the niche attentively, found that four blocks +of granite in the wall had been removed and their places supplied by +thick square logs cut from the trunks of trees. These logs were quite +loosely fitted. I took them out easily one by one, and then came upon a +close pile of brushwood. As I gradually cleared this away a large +aperture disclosed itself wide enough for any man to pass through +without trouble. My heart beat with the rapture of expected liberty; I +clambered up—I looked—thank God! I saw the landscape—the sky! In two +minutes I stood outside the vault on the soft grass, with the high arch +of heaven above me, and the broad Bay of Naples glittering deliciously +before my eyes! I clapped my hands and shouted for pure joy! I was +free! Free to return to life, to love, to the arms of my beautiful +Nina—free to resume the pleasant course of existence on the gladsome +earth—free to forget, if I could, the gloomy horrors of my premature +burial. If Carmelo Neri had heard the blessings I heaped upon his +head—he would for once have deemed himself a saint rather than a +brigand. What did I not owe to the glorious ruffian! Fortune and +freedom! for it was evident that this secret passage into the Romani +vault had been cunningly contrived by himself or his followers for +their own private purposes. Seldom has any man been more grateful to +his best benefactor than I was to the famous thief upon whose grim +head, as I knew, a price had been set for many months. The poor wretch +was in hiding. Well! the authorities should get no aid from me, I +resolved; even if I were to discover his whereabouts. Why should I +betray him? He had unconsciously done more for me than my best friend. +Nay, what friends will you find at all in the world when you need +substantial good? Few, or none. Touch the purse—test the heart! +</P> + +<P> +What castles in the air I built as I stood rejoicing in the morning +light and my newly acquired liberty—what dreams of perfect happiness +flitted radiantly before my fancy! Nina and I would love each other +more fondly than before, I thought—our separation had been brief, but +terrible—and the idea of what it might have been would endear us to +one another with tenfold fervor. And little Stella! Why—this very +evening I would swing her again under the orange boughs and listen to +her sweet shrill laughter! This very evening I would clasp Guido's hand +in a gladness too great for words! This very night my wife's fair head +would lie pillowed on my breast in an ecstatic silence broken only by +the music of kisses. Ah! my brain grew dizzy with the joyful visions +that crowded thickly and dazzlingly upon me! The sun had risen—his +long straight beams, like golden spears, touched the tops of the green +trees, and roused little flashes as of red and blue fire on the shining +surface of the bay. I heard the rippling of water and the measured soft +dash of oars; and somewhere from a distant boat the mellifluous voice +of a sailor sung a verse of the popular ritornello— +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + "Sciore d'amenta<BR> + Sta parolella mia tieul' ammento<BR> + Zompa llari llira!<BR> + Sciore limone!<BR> + Le voglio fa mori de passione<BR> + Zompa llari llira!"<BR> + [Footnote: Neapolitan dialect]<BR> +</P> + +<P> +I smiled—"Mori de passione!" Nina and I would know the meaning of +those sweet words when the moon rose and the nightingales sung their +love-songs to the dreaming flowers! Full of these happy fancies, I +inhaled the pure morning air for some minutes, and then re-entered the +vault. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap05"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER V. +</H3> + +<P> +The first thing I did was to repack all the treasures I had discovered. +This work was easily accomplished. For the present I contented myself +with taking two of the leathern bags for my own use, one full of gold +pieces, the other of jewels. The chest had been strongly made, and was +not much injured by being forced open. I closed its lid as tightly as +possible, and dragged it to a remote and dark corner of the vault, +where I placed three heavy stones upon it. I then took the two leathern +pouches I had selected, and stuffed one in each of the pockets of my +trousers. The action reminded me of the scantiness of attire in which I +stood arrayed. Could I be seen in the public roads in such a plight? I +examined my purse, which, as I before stated, had been left to me, +together with my keys and card-case, by the terrified persons who had +huddled me into my coffin with such scant ceremony. It contained two +twenty-franc pieces and some loose silver. Enough to buy a decent +costume of some sort. But where could I make the purchase, and how? +Must I wait till evening and slink out of this charnel-house like the +ghost of a wretched criminal? No! come what would, I made up my mind +not to linger a moment longer in the vault. The swarms of beggars that +infest Naples exhibit themselves in every condition of rags, dirt, and +misery; at the very worst I could only be taken for one of them. And +whatever difficulties I might encounter, no matter!—they would soon be +over. +</P> + +<P> +Satisfied that I had placed the brigand coffin in a safe position, I +secured the pearl and diamond pendant I had first found, to the chain +round my neck. I intended this ornament as a gift for my wife. Then, +once more climbing through the aperture, I closed it completely with +the logs and brushwood as it was before, and examining it narrowly from +the outside, I saw that it was utterly impossible to discern the +smallest hint of any entrance to a subterranean passage, so well and +cunningly had it been contrived. Now, nothing more remained for me to +do but to make the best of my way to the city, there to declare my +identity, obtain food and clothes, and then to hasten with all possible +speed to my own residence. +</P> + +<P> +Standing on a little hillock, I looked about me to see which direction +I should take. The cemetery was situated on the outskirts of +Naples—Naples itself lay on my left hand. I perceived a sloping road +winding in that direction, and judged that if I followed it it would +lead me to the city suburbs. Without further hesitation I commenced my +walk. It was now full day. My bare feet sunk deep in the dust that was +hot as desert sand—the blazing sun beat down fiercely on my uncovered +head, but I felt none of these discomforts; my heart was too full of +gladness. I could have sung aloud for delight as I stepped swiftly +along toward home—and Nina! I was aware of a great weakness in my +limbs—my eyes and head ached with the strong dazzling light; +occasionally, too, an icy shiver ran through me that made my teeth +chatter. But I recognized these symptoms as the after effects of my so +nearly fatal illness, and I paid no heed to them. A few weeks' rest +under my wife's loving care, and I knew I should be as well as ever. I +stepped on bravely. For some time I met no one, but at last I overtook +a small cart laden with freshly gathered grapes. The driver lay on his +seat asleep; his pony meanwhile cropped the green herbage by the +roadside, and every now and then shook the jingling bells on his +harness as though expressing the satisfaction he felt at being left to +his own devices. The piled-up grapes looked tempting, and I was both +hungry and thirsty, I laid a hand on the sleeping man's shoulder; he +awoke with a start. Seeing me, his face assumed an expression of the +wildest terror; he jumped from his cart and sunk down on his knees in +the dust, imploring me by the Madonna, St. Joseph, and all the saints +to spare his life. I laughed; his fears seemed to me ludicrous. Surely +there was nothing alarming about me beyond my paucity of clothing. +</P> + +<P> +"Get up, man!" I said. "I want nothing of you but a few grapes, and for +them I will pay." And I held out to him a couple of francs. He rose +from the dust, still trembling and eying me askance with evident +suspicion, took several bunches of the purple fruit, and gave them to +me without saying a word. Then, pocketing the money I proffered, he +sprung into his cart, and lashing his pony till the unfortunate animal +plunged and reared with pain and fury, rattled off down the road at +such a break-neck speed that I saw nothing but a whirling blot of +wheels disappearing in the distance. I was amused at the absurdity of +this man's terror. What did he take me for, I wondered? A ghost or a +brigand? I ate my grapes leisurely as I walked along—they were +deliciously cool and refreshing—food and wine in one. I met several +other persons as I neared the city, market people and venders of +ices—but they took no note of me—in fact, I avoided them all as much +as possible. On reaching the suburbs I turned into the first street I +saw that seemed likely to contain a few shops. It was close and dark +and foul-smelling, but I had not gone far down it when I came upon the +sort of place I sought—a wretched tumble-down hovel, with a partly +broken window, through which a shabby array of second-hand garments +were to be dimly perceived, strung up for show on pieces of coarse +twine. It was one of those dirty dens where sailors, returning from +long voyages, frequently go to dispose of the various trifles they have +picked up in foreign countries, so that among the forlorn specimens of +second-hand wearing apparel many quaint and curious objects were to be +seen, such as shells, branches of rough coral, strings of beads, cups +and dishes carved out of cocoa-nut, dried gourds, horns of animals, +fans, stuffed parakeets, and old coins—while a grotesque wooden idol +peered hideously forth from between the stretched-out portions of a +pair of old nankeen trousers, as though surveying the miscellaneous +collection in idiotic amazement. An aged man sat smoking at the open +door of this promising habitation—a true specimen of a Neapolitan +grown old. The skin of his face was like a piece of brown parchment +scored all over with deep furrows and wrinkles, as though Time, +disapproving of the history he had himself penned upon it, had +scratched over and blotted out all records, so that no one should +henceforth be able to read what had once been clear writing. The only +animation left in him seemed to have concentrated itself in his eyes, +which were black and bead-like, and roved hither and thither with a +glance of ever-restless and ever-suspicious inquiry. He saw me coming +toward him, but he pretended to be absorbed in a profound study of the +patch of blue sky that gleamed between the closely leaning houses of +the narrow street. I accosted him—and he brought his gaze swiftly down +to my level, and stared at me with keen inquisitiveness. +</P> + +<P> +"I have had a long tramp," I said, briefly, for he was not the kind of +man to whom I could explain my recent terrible adventure, "and I have +lost some of my clothes by an accident on the way. Can you sell me a +suit? Anything will do—I am not particular." +</P> + +<P> +The old man took his pipe from his mouth. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you fear the plague?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"I have just recovered from an attack of it," I replied, coolly. +</P> + +<P> +He looked at me attentively from head to foot, and then broke into a +low chuckling laugh. +</P> + +<P> +"Ha! ha!" he muttered, half to himself, half to me. "Good—good! Here +is one like myself—not afraid—not afraid! We are not cowards. We do +not find fault with the blessed saints—they send the plague. The +beautiful plague!—I love it! I buy all the clothes I can get that are +taken from the corpses—they are nearly always excellent clothes. I +never clean them—I sell them again at once—yes—yes! Why not? The +people must die—the sooner the better! I help the good God as much as +I can." And the old blasphemer crossed himself devoutly. +</P> + +<P> +I looked down upon him from where I stood drawn up to my full height, +with a glance of disgust. He filled me with something of the same +repulsion I had felt when I touched the unnameable Thing that fastened +on my neck while I slept in the vault. +</P> + +<P> +"Come!" I said, somewhat roughly, "will you sell me a suit or no?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, yes!" and he rose stiffly from his seat; he was very short of +stature, and so bent with age and infirmity that he looked more like +the crooked bough of a tree than a man, as he hobbled before me into +his dark shop. "Come inside, come inside! Take your choice; there is +enough here to suit all tastes. See now, what would you? Behold here +the dress of a gentleman, ah! what beautiful cloth, what strong wool! +English make? Yes, yes! He was English that wore it; a big, strong +milord, that drank beer and brandy like water—and rich—just +heaven!—how rich! But the plague took him; he died cursing God, and +calling bravely for more brandy. Ha, ha! a fine death—a splendid +death! His landlord sold me his clothes for three francs—one, two, +three—but you must give me six; that is fair profit, is it not? And I +am old and poor. I must make something to live upon." +</P> + +<P> +I threw aside the tweed suit he displayed for my inspection. "Nay," I +said, "I care nothing for the plague, but find me something better than +the cast-off clothing of a brandy-soaked Englishman. I would rather +wear the motley garb of a fellow who played the fool in carnival." +</P> + +<P> +The old dealer laughed with a crackling sound in his withered throat, +like the rattling of stones in a tin pot. +</P> + +<P> +"Good, good!" he croaked. "I like that, I like that! Thou art old, but +thou art merry. That pleases me; one should laugh always. Why not? +Death laughs; you never see a solemn skull; it laughs always!" +</P> + +<P> +And he plunged his long lean fingers into a deep drawer full of +miscellaneous garments, mumbling to himself all the while. I stood +beside him in silence, pondering on his words, "Thou art OLD, but +merry." What did he mean by calling ME old? He must be blind, I +thought, or in his dotage. Suddenly he looked up. +</P> + +<P> +"Talking of the plague," he said, "it is not always wise. It did a +foolish thing yesterday—a very foolish thing. It took one of the +richest men in the neighborhood, young too, strong and brave; looked as +if he would never die. The plague touched him in the morning—before +sunset he was nailed up and put down in his big family vault—a cold +lodging, and less handsomely furnished than his grand marble villa on +the heights yonder. When I heard the news I told the Madonna she was +wicked. Oh, yes! I rated her soundly; she is a woman, and capricious; a +good scolding brings her to reason. Look you! I am a friend to God and +the plague, but they both did a stupid thing when they took Count Fabio +Romani." +</P> + +<P> +I started, but quickly controlled myself into an appearance of +indifference. +</P> + +<P> +"Indeed!" I said, carelessly. "And pray who was he that he should not +deserve to die as well as other people?" +</P> + +<P> +The old man raised himself from his stooping attitude, and stared at me +with his keen black eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"Who was he? who was he?" he cried, in a shrill tone. "Oh, he! One can +see you know nothing of Naples. You have not heard of the rich Romani? +See you, I wished him to live. He was clever and bold, but I did not +grudge him that—no, he was good to the poor; he gave away hundreds of +francs in charity. I have seen him often—I saw him married." And here +his parchment face screwed itself into an expression of the most +malignant cruelty. "Pah! I hate his wife—a fair, soft thing, like a +white snake! I used to watch them both from the corners of the streets +as they drove along in their fine carriage, and I wondered how it would +all end, whether he or she would gain the victory first. I wanted HIM +to win; I would have helped him to kill her, yes! But the saints have +made a mistake this time, for he is dead, and that she-devil has all. +Oh, yes! God and the plague have done a foolish thing for once." +</P> + +<P> +I listened to the old wretch with deepening aversion, yet with some +curiosity too. Why should he hate my wife? I thought, unless, indeed, +he hated all youth and beauty, as was probably the case. And if he had +seen me as often as he averred he must know me by sight. How was it +then that he did not recognize me now? Following out this thought, I +said aloud: +</P> + +<P> +"What sort of looking man was this Count Romani? You say he was +handsome—was he tall or short—dark or fair?" +</P> + +<P> +Putting back his straggling gray locks from his forehead, the dealer +stretched out a yellow, claw-like hand, as though pointing to some +distant vision. +</P> + +<P> +"A beautiful man!" he exclaimed; "a man good for the eyes to see! As +straight as you are!—as tall as you are!—as broad as you are! But +your eyes are sunken and dim—his were full and large and sparkling. +Your face is drawn and pale—his was of a clear olive tint, round and +flushed with health; and his hair was glossy black—ah! as jet-black, +my friend, as yours is snow-white!" +</P> + +<P> +I recoiled from these last words in a sort of terror; they were like an +electric shock! Was I indeed so changed? Was it possible that the +horrors of a night in the vault had made such a dire impression upon +me? My hair white?—mine! I could hardly believe it. If so, perhaps +Nina would not recognize me—she might be terrified at my aspect—Guido +himself might have doubts of my identity. Though, for that matter, I +could easily prove myself to be indeed Fabio Romani—even if I had to +show the vault and my own sundered coffin. While I revolved all this in +my mind the old man, unconscious of my emotion, went on with his +mumbling chatter. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, yes, yes! He was a fine fellow—a strong fellow. I used to rejoice +that he was so strong. He could have taken the little throat of his +wife between finger and thumb and nipped it—so! and she would have +told no more lies. I wanted him to do it—I waited for it. He would +have done it surely, had he lived. That is why I am sorry he died." +</P> + +<P> +Mastering my feelings by a violent effort, I forced myself to speak +calmly to this malignant old brute. +</P> + +<P> +"Why do you hate the Countess Romani so much?" I asked him with +sternness. "Has she done you any harm?" +</P> + +<P> +He straightened himself as much as he was able and looked me full in +the eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"See you!" he answered, with a sort of leering laugh about the corners +of his wicked mouth. "I will tell you why I hate her—yes—I will tell +you, because you are a man and strong. I like strong men—they are +sometimes fooled by women, it is true—but then they can take revenge. +I was strong myself once. And you—you are old—but you love a +jest—you will understand. The Romani woman has done me no harm. She +laughed—once. That was when her horses knocked me down in the street. +I was hurt—but I saw her red lips widen and her white teeth +glitter—she has a baby smile—the people will tell you—so innocent! I +was picked up—her carriage drove on—her husband was not with her—he +would have acted differently. But it is no matter—I tell you she +laughed—and then I saw at once the likeness." +</P> + +<P> +"The likeness!" I exclaimed impatiently, for his story annoyed me. +"What likeness?" +</P> + +<P> +"Between her and my wife," the dealer replied, fixing his cruel eyes +upon me with increasing intensity of regard. "Oh, yes! I know what love +is. I know too that God had very little to do with the making of women. +It was a long time before even He could find the Madonna. Yes—yes, I +know! I tell you I married a thing as beautiful as a morning in +spring-time—with a little head that seemed to droop like a flower +under its weight of sunbeam hair—and eyes! ah—like those of a tiny +child when it looks up and asks you for kisses. I was absent once—I +returned and found her sleeping tranquilly—yes! on the breast of a +black-browed street-singer from Venice—a handsome lad enough and brave +as a young lion. He saw me and sprung at my throat—I held him down and +knelt upon his chest—she woke and gazed upon us, too terrified to +speak or scream—she only shivered and made a little moaning sound like +that of a spoiled baby. I looked down into her prostrate lover's eyes +and smiled. 'I will not hurt you,' I said. 'Had she not consented, you +could not have gained the victory. All I ask of you is to remain here +for a few moments longer.' He stared, but was mute. I bound him hand +and foot so that he could not stir. Then I took my knife and went to +her. Her blue eyes glared wide—imploringly she turned them upon +me—and ever she wrung her small hands and shivered and moaned. I +plunged the keen bright blade deep through her soft white flesh—her +lover cried out in agony—her heart's blood welled up in a crimson +tide, staining with a bright hue the white garments she wore; she flung +up her arms—she sank back on her pillows—dead. I drew the knife from +her body, and with it cut the bonds of the Venetian boy. I then gave it +to him. +</P> + +<P> +"'Take it as a remembrance of her,' I said. 'In a month she would have +betrayed you as she betrayed me.'" +</P> + +<P> +"He raged like a madman. He rushed out and called the gendarmes. Of +course I was tried for murder—but it was not murder—it was justice. +The judge found extenuating circumstances. Naturally! He had a wife of +his own. He understood my case. Now you know why I hate that dainty +jeweled woman up at the Villa Romani. She is just like that other +one—that creature I slew—she has just the same slow smile and the +same child-like eyes. I tell you again, I am sorry her husband is +dead—it vexes me sorely to think of it. For he would have killed her +in time—yes!—of that I am quite sure!" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap06"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VI. +</H3> + +<P> +I listened to his narrative with a pained feeling at my heart, and a +shuddering sensation as of icy cold ran through my veins. Why, I had +fancied that all who beheld Nina must, perforce, love and admire her. +True, when this old man was accidentally knocked down by her horses (a +circumstance she had never mentioned to me), it was careless of her not +to stop and make inquiry as to the extent of his injuries, but she was +young and thoughtless; she could not be intentionally heartless. I was +horrified to think that she should have made such an enemy as even this +aged and poverty-stricken wretch; but I said nothing. I had no wish to +betray myself. He waited for me to speak and grew impatient at my +silence. +</P> + +<P> +"Say now, my friend!" he queried, with a sort of childish eagerness, +"did I not take a good vengeance? God himself could not have done +better!" +</P> + +<P> +"I think your wife deserved her fate," I said, curtly, "but I cannot +say I admire you for being her murderer." +</P> + +<P> +He turned upon me rapidly, throwing both hands above his head with a +frantic gesticulation. His voice rose to a kind of muffled shriek. +</P> + +<P> +"Murderer you call me—ha! ha! that is good. No, no! She murdered me! I +tell you I died when I saw her asleep in her lover's arms—she killed +me at one blow. A devil rose up in my body and took swift revenge; that +devil is in me now, a brave devil, a strong devil! That is why I do not +fear the plague; the devil in me frightens away death. Some day it will +leave me"—here his smothered yell sunk gradually to a feeble, weary +tone; "yes, it will leave me and I shall find a dark place where I can +sleep; I do not sleep much now." He eyed me half wistfully. +</P> + +<P> +"You see," he explained, almost gently, "my memory is very good, and +when one thinks of many things one cannot sleep. It is many years ago, +but every night I see HER; she comes to me wringing her little white +hands, her blue eyes stare, I hear short moans of terror. Every night, +every night!" He paused, and passed his hands in a bewildered way +across his forehead. Then, like a man suddenly waking from sleep, he +stared as though he saw me now for the first time, and broke into a low +chuckling laugh. +</P> + +<P> +"What a thing, what a thing it is, the memory!" he muttered. +"Strange—strange! See, I remembered all that, and forgot you! But I +know what you want—a suit of clothes—yes, you need them badly, and I +also need the money for them. Ha, ha! And you will not have the fine +coat of Milord Inglese! No, no! I understand. I will find you +something—patience, patience!" +</P> + +<P> +And he began to grope among a number of things that were thrown in a +confused heap at the back of the shop. While in this attitude he looked +so gaunt and grim that he reminded me of an aged vulture stooping over +carrion, and yet there was something pitiable about him too. In a way I +was sorry for him; a poor half-witted wretch, whose life had been full +of such gall and wormwood. What a different fate was his to mine, I +thought. <I>I</I> had endured but one short night of agony; how trifling it +seemed compared to HIS hourly remorse and suffering! He hated Nina for +an act of thoughtlessness; well, no doubt she was not the only woman +whose existence annoyed him; it was most probably that he was at enmity +with all women. I watched him pityingly as he searched among the +worn-out garments which were his stock-in-trade, and wondered why +Death, so active in smiting down the strongest in the city, should have +thus cruelly passed by this forlorn wreck of human misery, for whom the +grave would have surely been a most welcome release and rest. He turned +round at last with an exulting gesture. +</P> + +<P> +"I have found it!" he exclaimed. "The very thing to suit you. Your are +perhaps a coral-fisher? You will like a fisherman's dress. Here is one, +red sash, cap and all, in beautiful condition! He that wore it was +about your height it will fit you as well as it fitted him, and, look +you! the plague is not in it, the sea has soaked through and through +it; it smells of the sand and weed." +</P> + +<P> +He spread out the rough garb before me. I glanced at it carelessly. +</P> + +<P> +"Did the former wearer kill HIS wife'" I asked, with a slight smile. +</P> + +<P> +The old rag-picker shook his head and made a sign with his outspread +fingers expressive of contempt. +</P> + +<P> +"Not he!—He was a fool—He killed himself" +</P> + +<P> +"How was that? By accident or design?" +</P> + +<P> +"Che! Che! He knew very well what he was doing. It happened only two +months since. It was for the sake of a black-eyed jade, she lives and +laughs all day long up at Sorrento. He had been on a long voyage, he +brought her pearls for her throat and coral pins for her hair. She had +promised to marry him. He had just landed, he met her on the quay, he +offered her the pearl and coral trinkets. She threw them back and told +him she was tired of him. Just that—nothing more. He tried to soften +her; she raged at him like a tiger-cat. Yes, I was one of the little +crowd that stood round them on the quay, I saw it all. Her black eyes +flashed, she stamped and bit her lips at him, her full bosom heaved as +though it would burst her laced bodice. She was only a market-girl, but +she gave herself the airs of a queen. 'I am tired of you!' she said to +him. 'Go! I wish to see you no more.' He was tall and well-made, a +powerful fellow; but he staggered, his face grew pale, his lips +quivered. He bent his head a little—turned—and before any hand could +stop him he sprung from the edge of the quay into the waves, they +closed over his head, for he did not try to swim; he just sunk down, +down, like a stone. Next day his body came ashore, and I bought his +clothes for two francs; you shall have them for four." +</P> + +<P> +"And what became of the girl?" I asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, SHE! She laughs all day long, as I told you. She has a new lover +every week. What should SHE care?" +</P> + +<P> +I drew out my purse. "I will take this suit," I said. "You ask four +francs, here are six, but for the extra two you must show me some +private corner where I can dress." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, yes. But certainly!" and the old fellow trembled all over with +avaricious eagerness as I counted the silver pieces into his withered +palm. "Anything to oblige a generous stranger! There is the place I +sleep in; it is not much, but there is a mirror—HER mirror—the only +thing I keep of hers; come this way, come this way!" +</P> + +<P> +And stumbling hastily along, almost falling over the disordered bundles +of clothing that lay about in all directions, he opened a little door +that seemed to be cut in the wall, and led me into a kind of close +cupboard, smelling most vilely, and furnished with a miserable pallet +bed and one broken chair. A small square pane of glass admitted light +enough to see all that there was to be seen, and close to this +extemporized window hung the mirror alluded to, a beautiful thing set +in silver of antique workmanship, the costliness of which I at once +recognized, though into the glass itself I dared not for the moment +look. The old man showed me with some pride that the door to this +narrow den of his locked from within. +</P> + +<P> +"I made the lock and key, and fitted it all myself," he said. "Look how +neat and strong! Yes; I was clever once at all that work—it was my +trade—till that morning when I found her with the singer from Venice; +then I forgot all I used to know—it went away somehow, I could never +understand why. Here is the fisherman's suit; you can take your time to +put it on; fasten the door; the room is at your service." +</P> + +<P> +And he nodded several times in a manner that was meant to be friendly, +and left me. I followed his advice at once and locked myself in. Then I +stepped steadily to the mirror hanging on the wall, and looked at my +own reflection. A bitter pang shot through me. The dealer's sight was +good, he had said truly. I was old! If twenty years of suffering had +passed over my head, they could hardly have changed me more terribly. +My illness had thinned my face and marked it with deep lines of pain; +my eyes had retreated far back into my head, while a certain wildness +of expression in them bore witness to the terrors I had suffered in the +vault, and to crown all, my hair was indeed perfectly white. I +understood now the alarm of the man who had sold me grapes on the +highway that morning; my appearance was strange enough to startle any +one. Indeed, I scarcely recognized myself. Would my wife, would Guido +recognize me? Almost I doubted it. This thought was so painful to me +that the tears sprung to my eyes. I brushed them away in haste. +</P> + +<P> +"Fy on thee, Fabio! Be a man!" I said, addressing myself angrily. "Of +what matter after all whether hairs are black or white? What matter how +the face changes, so long as the heart is true? For a moment, perhaps, +thy love may grow pale at sight of thee; but when she knows of thy +sufferings, wilt thou not be dearer to her than ever? Will not one of +her soft embraces recompense thee for all thy past anguish, and suffice +to make thee young again?" +</P> + +<P> +And thus encouraging my sinking spirits, I quickly arrayed myself in +the Neapolitan coral-fisher's garb. The trousers were very loose, and +were provided with two long deep pockets, convenient receptacles, which +easily contained the leathern bags of gold and jewels I had taken from +the brigand's coffin. When my hasty toilet was completed I took another +glance at the mirror, this time with a half smile. True, I was greatly +altered; but after all I did not look so bad. The fisherman's +picturesque costume became me well; the scarlet cap sat jauntily on the +snow-white curls that clustered so thickly over my forehead, and the +consciousness I had of approaching happiness sent a little of the old +fearless luster back into my sunken eyes. Besides, I knew I should not +always have this care-worn and wasted appearance; rest, and perhaps a +change of air, would infallibly restore the roundness to my face and +the freshness to my complexion; even my white locks might return to +their pristine color, such things had been; and supposing they remained +white? well!—there were many who would admire the peculiar contrast +between a young man's face and an old man's hair. +</P> + +<P> +Having finished dressing, I unlocked the door of the stuffy little +cabin and called the old rag-picker. He came shuffling along with his +head bent, but raising his eyes as he approached me, he threw up his +hands in astonishment, exclaiming, +</P> + +<P> +"Santissima Madonna! But you are a fine man—a fine man! Eh, eh! Holy +Joseph! What height and breadth! A pity—a pity you are old; you must +have been strong when you were young!" +</P> + +<P> +Half in joke, and half to humor him in his fancy for mere muscular +force, I rolled up the sleeve of my jacket to the shoulder, saying, +lightly, +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, as for being strong! There is plenty of strength in me still, you +see." +</P> + +<P> +He stared; laid his yellow fingers on my bared arm with a kind of +ghoul-like interest and wonder, and felt the muscles of it with +childish, almost maudlin admiration. +</P> + +<P> +"Beautiful, beautiful!" he mumbled. "Like iron—just think of it! Yes, +yes. You could kill anything easily. Ah! I used to be like that once. I +was clever at sword-play. I could, with well-tempered steel, cut +asunder a seven-times-folded piece of silk at one blow without fraying +out a thread. Yes, as neatly as one cuts butter! You could do that too +if you liked. It all lies in the arm—the brave arm that kills at a +single stroke." +</P> + +<P> +And he gazed at me intently with his small blear eyes as though anxious +to know more of my character and temperament. I turned abruptly from +him, and called his attention to my own discarded garments. +</P> + +<P> +"See," I said, carelessly; "you can have these, though they are not of +much value. And, stay, here are another three francs for some socks and +shoes, which I dare say you can find to suit me." +</P> + +<P> +He clasped his hands ecstatically, and poured out a torrent of thanks +and praises for this additional and unexpected sum, and protesting by +all the saints that he and the entire contents of his shop were at the +service of so generous a stranger, he at once produced the articles I +asked for. I put them on—and then stood up thoroughly equipped and +ready to make my way back to my own home when I chose. But I had +resolved on one thing. Seeing that I was so greatly changed, I +determined not to go to the Villa Romani by daylight, lest I should +startle my wife too suddenly. Women are delicate; my unexpected +appearance might give her a nervous shock which perhaps would have +serious results. I would wait till the sun had set, and then go up to +the house by a back way I knew of, and try to get speech with one of +the servants. I might even meet my friend Guido Ferrari, and he would +break the joyful news of my return from death to Nina by degrees, and +also prepare her for my altered looks. While these thoughts flitted +rapidly through my brain, the old ragpicker stood near me with his head +on one side like a meditative raven, and regarded me intently. +</P> + +<P> +"Are you going far?" he asked at last, with a kind of timidity. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," I answered him, abruptly; "very far." +</P> + +<P> +He laid a detaining hand on my sleeve, and his eyes glittered—with a +malignant expression. +</P> + +<P> +"Tell me," he muttered, eagerly, "tell me—I will keep the secret. Are +you going to a woman?" +</P> + +<P> +I looked down upon him, half in disdain, half in amusement. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes!" I said, quietly, "I am going to a woman." +</P> + +<P> +He broke into silent laughter—hideous laughter that contorted his +visage and twisted his body in convulsive writhings. +</P> + +<P> +I glanced at him in disgust, and shaking off his hand from my arm, I +made my way to the door of the shop He hobbled quickly after me, wiping +away the moisture that his inward merriment had brought into his eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"Going to a woman!" he croaked "Ha, ha! You are not the first, nor will +you be the last, that has gone so! Going to a woman! that is well—that +is good! Go to her, go! You are strong, you have a brave arm! Go to +her, find her out, and—KILL HER! Yes, yes—you will be able to do it +easily—quite easily! Go and kill her.'" +</P> + +<P> +He stood at his low door mouthing and pointing, his stunted figure and +evil face reminding me of one of Heinrich Heine's dwarf devils who are +depicted as piling fire on the heads of the saints. I bade him "Good +day" in an indifferent tone, but he made me no answer I walked slowly +away. Looking back once I saw him still standing on the threshold of +his wretched dwelling, his wicked mouth working itself into all manner +of grimaces, while with his crooked fingers he made signs in the air as +if he caught an invisible something and throttled it. I went on down +the street and out of it into the broader thoroughfares, with his last +words ringing in my ears, "go and kill her!" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap07"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VII. +</H3> + +<P> +That day seemed very long to me I wandered aimlessly about the city, +seeing few faces that I knew, for the wealthier inhabitants, afraid of +the cholera, had either left the place together or remained closely +shut within their own houses. Everywhere I went something bore witness +to the terrible ravages of the plague. At almost every corner I met a +funeral procession. Once I came upon a group of men who were standing +in an open door way packing a dead body into a coffin too small for it. +There was something truly revolting in the way they doubled up the arms +and legs and squeezed in the shoulders of the deceased man—one could +hear the bones crack. I watched the brutal proceedings for a minute or +so, and then I said aloud: +</P> + +<P> +"You had better make sure he is quite dead," +</P> + +<P> +The beccamorti looked at me in surprise; one laughed grimly and swore. +"By the body of God, if I thought he were not I would twist his +accursed neck for him! But the cholera never fails, he is dead for +certain—see!" And he knocked the head of the corpse to and fro against +the sides of the coffin with no more compunction than if it had been a +block of wood. Sickened at the sight, I turned away and said no more. +On reaching one of the more important thoroughfares I perceived several +knots of people collected, who glanced at one another with eager yet +shamed faces, and spoke in low voices. A whisper reached my ears, "The +king! the king!" All heads were turned in one direction; I paused and +looked also. Walking at a leisurely pace, accompanied by a few +gentlemen of earnest mien and grave deportment, I saw the fearless +monarch, Humbert of Italy—he whom his subjects delight to honor. He +was making a round of visits to all the vilest holes and corners of the +city, where the plague raged most terribly—he had not so much as a +cigarette in his mouth to ward off infection. He walked with the easy +and assured step of a hero; his face was somewhat sad, as though the +sufferings of his people had pressed heavily upon his sympathetic +heart. I bared my head reverently as he passed, his keen kind eyes +lighted on me with a smile. +</P> + +<P> +"A subject for a painting, yon white-haired fisherman!" I heard him say +to one of his attendants. Almost I betrayed myself. I was on the point +of springing forward and throwing myself at his feet to tell him my +story. It seemed to me both cruel and unnatural that he, my beloved +sovereign, should pass me without recognition—me, to whom he had +spoken so often and so cordially. For when I visited Rome, as I was +accustomed to do annually, there were few more welcome guests at the +balls of the Quirinal Palace than Count Fabio Romani. I began to wonder +stupidly who Fabio Romani was; the gay gallant known as such seemed no +longer to have any existence—a "white-haired fisherman" usurped his +place. But though I thought these things I refrained from addressing +the king. Some impulse, however, led me to follow him at a respectful +distance, as did also many others. His majesty strolled through the +most pestilential streets with as much unconcern as though he wore +taking his pleasure in a garden of roses; he stepped quietly into the +dirtiest hovels where lay both dead and dying; he spoke words of kindly +encouragement to the grief-stricken and terrified mourners, who stared +through their tears at the monarch with astonishment and gratitude; +silver and gold were gently dropped into the hands of the suffering +poor, and the very pressing cases received the royal benefactor's +personal attention and immediate relief. Mothers with infants in their +arms knelt to implore the king's blessing—which to pacify them he gave +with a modest hesitation, as though he thought himself unworthy, and +yet with a parental tenderness that was infinitely touching. One +wild-eyed, black-haired girl flung herself down on the ground right in +the king's path; she kissed his feet, and then sprung erect with a +gesture of triumph. +</P> + +<P> +"I am saved!" she cried; "the plague cannot walk in the same road with +the king!" +</P> + +<P> +Humbert smiled, and regarded her somewhat as an indulgent father might +regard a spoiled daughter; but he said nothing, and passed on. A +cluster of men and women standing at the open door of one of the +poorest-looking houses in the street next attracted the monarch's +attention. There was some noisy argument going on; two or three +beccamorti were loudly discussing together and swearing profusely—some +women were crying bitterly, and in the center of the excited group a +coffin stood on end as though waiting for an occupant. One of the +gentlemen in attendance on the king preceded him and announced his +approach, whereupon the loud clamor of tongues ceased, the men bared +their heads, and the women checked their sobs. +</P> + +<P> +"What is wrong here, my friends?" the monarch asked with exceeding +gentleness. +</P> + +<P> +There was silence for a moment; the beccamorti looked sullen and +ashamed. Then one of the women, with a fat good-natured face and eyes +rimmed redly round with weeping, elbowed her way through the little +throng to the front and spoke. +</P> + +<P> +"May the Holy Virgin and saints bless your majesty!" she cried, in +shrill accents. "And as for what is wrong, it would soon be right if +those shameless pigs," pointing to the beccamorti, "would let us alone. +They would kill a man rather than wait an hour—one little hour! The +girl is dead, your majesty—and Giovanni, poor lad! will not leave her; +he has his two arms round her tight—Holy Virgin!—think of it! and she +a cholera corpse—and do what we can, he will not be parted from her, +and they seek her body for the burial. And if we force him away, +poverino, he will lose his head for certain. One little hour, your +majesty, just one, and the reverend father will come and persuade +Giovanni better than we can." +</P> + +<P> +The king raised his hand with a slight gesture of command—the little +crowd parted before him—and he entered the miserable dwelling wherein +lay the corpse that was the cause of all the argument. His attendants +followed; I, too, availed myself of a corner in the doorway. The scene +disclosed was so terribly pathetic that few could look upon it without +emotion—Humbert of Italy himself uncovered his head and stood silent. +On a poor pallet bed lay the fair body of a girl in her first youth, +her tender loveliness as yet untouched even by the disfiguring marks of +the death that had overtaken her. One would have thought she slept, had +it not been for the rigidity of her stiffened limbs, and the wax-like +pallor of her face and hands. Right across her form, almost covering it +from view, a man lay prone, as though he had fallen there +lifeless—indeed he might have been dead also for any sign he showed to +the contrary. His arms were closed firmly round the girl's corpse—his +face was hidden from view on the cold breast that would no more respond +to the warmth of his caresses. A straight beam of sunlight shot like a +golden spear into the dark little room and lighted up the whole +scene—the prostrate figures on the bed—the erect form of the +compassionate king, and the grave and anxious faces of the little crowd +of people who stood around him. +</P> + +<P> +"See! that is the way he has been ever since last night when she died," +whispered the woman who had before spoken; "and his hands are clinched +round her like iron—one cannot move a finger!" +</P> + +<P> +The king advanced. He touched the shoulder of the unhappy lover. His +voice, modulated to an exquisite softness, struck on the ears of the +listeners like a note of cheerful music. +</P> + +<P> +"Figlio mio!" +</P> + +<P> +There was no answer. The women, touched by the simple endearing words +of the monarch, began to sob though gently, and even the men brushed a +few drops from their eyes. Again the king spoke. +</P> + +<P> +"Figlio mio! I am your king. Have you no greeting for me?" +</P> + +<P> +The man raised his head from its pillow on the breast of the beloved +corpse and stared vacantly at the royal speaker. His haggard face, +tangled hair, and wild eyes gave him the appearance of one who had long +wandered in a labyrinth of frightful visions from which there was no +escape but self-murder. +</P> + +<P> +"Your hand, my son!" resumed the king in a tone of soldier-like +authority. +</P> + +<P> +Very slowly—very reluctantly—as though he were forced to the action +by some strange magnetic influence which he had no power to withstand, +he loosened his right arm from the dead form it clasped so +pertinaciously, and stretched forth the hand as commanded. Humbert +caught it firmly within his own and held it fast—then looking the poor +fellow full in the face, he said with grave steadiness and simplicity, +</P> + +<P> +"There is no death in love, my friend!" +</P> + +<P> +The young man's eyes met his—his set mouth softened—and wresting his +hand passionately from that of the king, he broke into a passion of +weeping. Humbert at once placed a protecting arm around him, and with +the assistance of one of his attendants raised him from the bed, and +led him unresistingly away, as passively obedient as a child, though +sobbing convulsively as he went. The rush of tears had saved his +reason, and most probably his life. A murmur of enthusiastic applause +greeted the good king as he passed through the little throng of persons +who had witnessed what had taken place. Acknowledging it with a quiet +unaffected bow, he left the house, and signed to the beccamorti, who +still waited outside, that they were now free to perform their +melancholy office. He then went on his way attended by more heart-felt +blessings and praises than ever fell to the lot of the proudest +conqueror returning with the spoils of a hundred battles. I looked +after his retreating figure till I could see it no more—I felt that I +had grown stronger for the mere presence of a hero—a man who indeed +was "every inch a king." I am a royalist—yes. Governed by such a +sovereign, few men of calm reason would be otherwise. But royalist +though I am, I would assist in bringing about the dethronement and +death of a mean tyrant, were he crowned king a hundred times over! Few +monarchs are like Humbert of Italy—even now my heart warms when I +think of him—in all the distraction of my sufferings, his figure +stands out like a supreme embodied Beneficent Force surrounded by the +clear light of unselfish goodness—a light in which Italia suns her +fair face and smiles again with the old sweet smile of her happiest +days of high achievement—days in which he children were great, simply +because they were EARNEST. The fault of all modern labor lies in the +fact that there is no heart in anything we do—we seldom love our work +for work's sake—we perform it solely for what we can get by it. +Therein lies the secret of failure. Friends will scarcely serve each +other unless they can also serve their own interests—true, there are +exceptions to this rule, but they are deemed fools for their pains. +</P> + +<P> +As soon as the king disappeared I also left the scene of the foregoing +incident. I had a fancy to visit the little restaurant where I had been +taken ill, and after some trouble I found it. The door stood open. I +saw the fat landlord, Pietro, polishing his glasses as though he had +never left off; and there in the same corner was the very wooden bench +on which I had lain—where I had—as was generally supposed—died. I +stepped in. The landlord looked up and bade me good-day. I returned his +salutation, and ordered some coffee and rolls of bread. Seating myself +carelessly at one of the little tables I turned over the newspaper, +while he bustled about in haste to serve me. As he dusted and rubbed up +a cup and saucer for my use, he said, briskly, +</P> + +<P> +"You have had a long voyage, amico? And successful fishing?" +</P> + +<P> +For a moment I was confused and knew not what to answer, but gathering +my wits together I smiled and answered readily in the affirmative. +</P> + +<P> +"And you?" I said, gayly. "How goes the cholera?" +</P> + +<P> +The landlord shook his head dolefully. +</P> + +<P> +"Holy Joseph! do not speak of it. The people die like flies in a +honey-pot. Only yesterday—body of Bacchus!—who would have thought it?" +</P> + +<P> +And he sighed deeply as he poured out the steaming coffee, and shook +his head more sorrowfully than before. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, what happened yesterday?" I asked, though I knew perfectly well +what he was going to say; "I am a stranger in Naples, and empty of +news." +</P> + +<P> +The perspiring Pietro laid a fat thumb on the marble top of the table, +and with it traced a pattern meditatively. +</P> + +<P> +"You never heard of the rich Count Romani?" he inquired. +</P> + +<P> +I made a sign in the negative, and bent my face over my coffee-cup. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, well!" he went on with a half groan, "it does not matter—there is +no Count Romani any more. It is all gone—finished! But he was rich—as +rich as the king, they say—yet see how low the saints brought him! Fra +Cipriano of the Benedictines carried him in here yesterday morning—he +was struck by the plague—in five hours he was dead," here the landlord +caught a mosquito and killed it—"ah! as dead as that zinzara! Yes, he +lay dead on that very wooden bench opposite to you. They buried him +before sunset. It is like a bad dream!" +</P> + +<P> +I affected to be deeply engrossed with the cutting and Spreading of my +roll and butter. +</P> + +<P> +"I see nothing particular about it," I said, indifferently. "That he +was rich is nothing—rich and poor must die alike." +</P> + +<P> +"And that is true, very true," assented Pietro, with another groan, +"for not all his property could save the blessed Cipriano." +</P> + +<P> +I started, but quickly controlled myself. +</P> + +<P> +"What do you mean?" I asked, as carelessly as I could. "Are you talking +of some saint?" +</P> + +<P> +"Well, if he were not canonized he deserves to be," replied the +landlord; "I speak of the holy Benedictine father who brought hither +the Count Romani in a dying condition. Ah I little he knew how soon the +good God would call him himself!" +</P> + +<P> +I felt a sickening sensation at my heart. +</P> + +<P> +"Is he dead?" I exclaimed. +</P> + +<P> +"Dead as the martyrs!" answered Pietro. "He caught the plague, I +suppose, from the count, for he was bending over him to the last. Ay, +and he sprinkled holy water over the corpse, and laid his own crucifix +upon it in the coffin. Then up he went to the Villa Romani, taking with +him the count's trinkets, his watch, ring, and cigar-case—and nothing +would satisfy him but that he should deliver them himself to the young +contessa, telling her how her husband died." +</P> + +<P> +My poor Nina!—I thought. "Was she much grieved?" I inquired, with a +vague curiosity. +</P> + +<P> +"How do I know?" said the landlord, shrugging his bulky shoulders. "The +reverend father said nothing, save that she swooned away. But what of +that? Women swoon at everything—from a mouse to a corpse. As I said, +the good Cipriano attended the count's burial—and he had scarce +returned from it when he was seized with the illness. And this morning +he died at the monastery—may his soul rest in peace! I heard the news +only an hour ago. Ah! he was a holy man! He has promised me a warm +corner in Paradise, and I know he will keep his word as truly as St. +Peter himself." +</P> + +<P> +I pushed away the rest of my meal untasted. The food choked me. I could +have shed tears for the noble, patient life thus self-sacrificed. One +hero the less in this world of unheroic, uninspired persons! I sat +silent, lost in sorrowful thought. The landlord looked at me curiously. +</P> + +<P> +"The coffee does not please you?" he said at last. "You have no +appetite?" I forced a smile. +</P> + +<P> +"Nay—your words would take the edge off the keenest appetite ever born +of the breath of the sea. Truly Naples affords but sorry entertainment +to a stranger; is there naught to hear but stories of the dying and the +dead?" +</P> + +<P> +Pietro put on an air that was almost apologetic. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, truly!" he answered, resignedly—"very little else. But what +would you, amico? It is the plague and the will of God." +</P> + +<P> +As he said the last words my gaze was caught and riveted by the figure +of a man strolling leisurely past the door of the cafe. It was Guido +Ferrari—my friend! I would have rushed out to speak to him—but +something in his look and manner checked the impulse as it rose in me. +He was walking very slowly, smoking a cigar as he went; there was a +smile on his face, and in his coat he wore a freshly-gathered rose La +Gloire de France, similar to those that grew in such profusion on the +upper terrace of my villa. I stared at him as he passed—my feelings +underwent a kind of shock. He looked perfectly happy and tranquil, +happier indeed than ever I remembered to have seen him, and yet—and +yet, according to HIS knowledge, I, his best friend, had died only +yesterday! With this sorrow fresh upon him, he could smile like a man +going to a festa, and wear a coral-pink rose, which surely was no sign +of mourning! For one moment I felt hurt, the next, I laughed at my own +sensitiveness. After all, what of the smile, what of the rose! A man +could not always be answerable for the expression of his countenance, +and as for the flower, he might have gathered it en passent, without +thinking, or what was still more likely, the child Stella might have +given it to him, in which case he would have worn it to please her. He +displayed no badge of mourning? True!—but then consider—I had only +died yesterday! There had been no time to procure all those outward +appurtenances of woe which social customs rendered necessary, but which +were no infallible sign of the heart's sincerity. Satisfied with my own +self-reasoning I made no attempt to follow Guido in his walk—I let him +go on his way unconscious of my existence. I would wait, I thought, +till the evening—then everything would be explained. +</P> + +<P> +I turned to the landlord. "How much to pay?" I asked. +</P> + +<P> +"What you will, amico" he replied—"I am never hard on the fisher +folk—but times are bad, or you would be welcome to a breakfast for +nothing. Many and many a day have I done as much for men of your craft, +and the blessed Cipriano who is gone used to say that St. Peter would +remember me for it. It is true the Madonna gives a special blessing if +one looks after the fishers, because all the holy apostles were of the +trade; and I would be loth to lose her protection—yet-" +</P> + +<P> +I laughed and tossed him a franc. He pocketed it at once and his eyes +twinkled. +</P> + +<P> +"Though you have not taken half a franc's worth," he admitted, with an +honesty very unusual in a Neapolitan—"but the saints will make it up +to you, never fear!" +</P> + +<P> +"I am sure of that!" I said, gayly. "Addio, my friend! Prosperity to +you and our Lady's favor!" +</P> + +<P> +This salutation, which I knew to be a common one with Sicilian +mariners, the good Pietro responded to with amiable heartiness, wishing +me luck on my next voyage. He then betook himself anew to the polishing +of his glasses—and I passed the rest of the day in strolling about the +least frequented streets of the city, and longing impatiently for the +crimson glory of the sunset, which, like a wide flag of triumph, was to +be the signal of my safe return to love and happiness. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap08"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VIII. +</H3> + +<P> +It came at last, the blessed, the longed-for evening. A soft breeze +sprung up, cooling the burning air after the heat of the day, and +bringing with it the odors of a thousand flowers. A regal glory of +shifting colors blazed on the breast of heaven—the bay, motionless as +a mirror, reflected all the splendid tints with a sheeny luster that +redoubled their magnificence. Pricked in every vein by the stinging of +my own desires, I yet restrained myself; I waited till the sun sunk +below the glassy waters—till the pomp and glow attending its departure +had paled into those dim, ethereal hues which are like delicate +draperies fallen from the flying forms of angels—till the yellow rim +of the round full moon rose languidly on the edge of the horizon—and +then keeping back my eagerness no longer, I took the well-known road +ascending to the Villa Romani, My heart beat high—my limbs trembled +with excitement—my steps were impatient and precipitate—never had the +way seemed so long. At last I reached the great gate-way—it was locked +fast—its sculptured lions looked upon me frowningly. I heard the +splash and tinkle of the fountains within, the scents of the roses and +myrtle were wafted toward me with every breath I drew. Home at last! I +smiled—my whole frame quivered with expectancy and delight. It was not +my intention to seek admission by the principal entrance—I contented +myself with one long, loving look, and turned to the left, where there +was a small private gate leading into an avenue of ilex and pine, +interspersed with orange-trees. This was a favorite walk of mine, +partly on account of its pleasant shade even in the hottest +noon—partly because it was seldom frequented by any member of the +household save myself. Guido occasionally took a turn with me there, +but I was more often alone, and I was fond of pacing up and down in the +shadow of the trees, reading some favorite book, or giving myself up to +the dolcefar niente of my own imaginings. The avenue led round to the +back of the villa, and as I now entered it, I thought I would approach +the house cautiously by this means and get private speech with Assunta, +the nurse who had charge of little Stella, and who was moreover an old +and tried family servant, in whose arms my mother had breathed her last. +</P> + +<P> +The dark trees rustled solemnly as I stepped quickly yet softly along +the familiar moss-grown path. The place was very still—sometimes the +nightingales broke into a bubbling torrent of melody, and then were +suddenly silent, as though overawed by the shadows of the heavy +interlacing boughs, through which the moonlight flickered, casting +strange and fantastic patterns on the ground. A cloud of lucciole broke +from a thicket of laurel, and sparkled in the air like gems loosened +from a queen's crown. Faint odors floated about me, shaken from orange +boughs and trailing branches of white jasmine. I hastened on, my +spirits rising higher the nearer I approached my destination. I was +full of sweet anticipation and passionate longing—I yearned to clasp +my beloved Nina in my arms—to see her lovely lustrous eyes looking +fondly into mine—I was eager to shake Guido by the hand—and as for +Stella, I knew the child would be in bed at that hour, but still, I +thought, I must have her wakened to see me. I felt that my happiness +would not be complete till I had kissed her little cherub face, and +caressed those clustering curls of hers that were like spun gold. +Hush—hush! What was that? I stopped in my rapid progress as though +suddenly checked by an invisible hand. I listened with strained ears. +That sound—was it not a rippling peal of gay sweet laughter? A shiver +shook me from head to foot. It was my wife's laugh—I knew the silvery +chime of it well! My heart sunk coldly—I paused irresolute. She could +laugh then like that, while she thought me lying dead—dead and out of +her reach forever! All at once I perceived the glimmer of a white robe +through the trees; obeying my own impulse, I stepped softly aside—I +hid behind a dense screen of foliage through which I could see without +being seen. The clear laugh rang out once again on the stillness—its +brightness pierced my brain like a sharp sword! She was happy—she was +even merry—she wandered here in the moonlight joyous-hearted, while +I—I had expected to find her close shut within her room, or else +kneeling before the Mater Dolorosa in the little chapel, praying for my +soul's rest, and mingling her prayers with her tears! Yes—I had +expected this—we men are such fools when we love women! Suddenly a +terrible thought struck me. Had she gone mad? Had the shock and grief +of my so unexpected death turned her delicate brain? Was she roaming +about, poor child, like Ophelia, knowing not whither she went, and was +her apparent gayety the fantastic mirth of a disordered brain? I +shuddered at the idea—and bending slightly apart the boughs behind +which I was secreted, I looked out anxiously. Two figures were slowly +approaching—my wife and my friend, Guido Ferrari. Well—there was +nothing in that—it was as it should be—was not Guido as my brother? +It was almost his duty to console and cheer Nina as much as lay in his +power. But stay! stay! did I see aright—was she simply leaning on his +arm for support—or—a fierce oath, that was almost a cry of torture, +broke from my lips! Oh, would to God I had died! Would to God I had +never broken open the coffin in which I lay at peace! What was +death—what were the horrors of the vault—what was anything I had +suffered to the anguish that racked me now? The memory of it to this +day burns in my brain like inextinguishable fire, and my hand +involuntarily clinches itself in an effort to beat back the furious +bitterness of that moment! I know not how I restrained the murderous +ferocity that awoke within me—how I forced myself to remain motionless +and silent in my hiding-place. But I did. I watched the miserable +comedy out to its end. I looked dumbly on at my own betrayal! I saw my +honor stabbed to the death by those whom I most trusted, and yet I gave +no sign! They—Guido Ferrari and my wife—came so close to my +hiding-place that I could note every gesture and hear every word they +uttered. They paused within three steps of me—his arm encircled her +waist—hers was thrown carelessly around his neck—her head rested on +his shoulder. Even so had she walked with me a thousand times! She was +dressed in pure white save for one spot of deep color near her heart—a +red rose, as red as blood. It was pinned there with a diamond pin that +flashed in the moonlight. I thought wildly, that instead of that rose, +there should be blood indeed—instead of a diamond pin there should be +the good steel of a straight dagger! But I had no weapon—I stared at +her, dry-eyed and mute. She looked lovely—exquisitely lovely! No trace +of grief marred the fairness of her face—her eyes were as languidly +limpid and tender as ever—her lips were parted in the child-like smile +that was so sweet—so innocently trustful! She spoke—ah, Heaven! the +old bewitching music of her low voice made my heart leap and my brain +reel. +</P> + +<P> +"You foolish Guido!" she said, in dreamily amused accents. "What would +have happened, I wonder, if Fabio had not died so opportunely." +</P> + +<P> +I waited eagerly for the answer. Guido laughed lightly. +</P> + +<P> +"He would never have discovered anything. You were too clever for him, +piccinina! Besides, his conceit saved him—he had so good an opinion of +himself that he would not have deemed it possible for you to care for +any other man." +</P> + +<P> +My wife—flawless diamond-pearl of pure womanhood!—sighed half +restlessly. +</P> + +<P> +"I am glad he is dead!" she murmured; "but, Guido mio, you are +imprudent. You cannot visit me now so often—the servants will talk! +Then I must go into mourning for at least six months—and there are +many other things to consider." +</P> + +<P> +Guide's hand played with the jeweled necklace she wore—he bent and +kissed the place where its central pendant rested. Again—again, good +sir, I pray you! Let no faint scruples interfere with your rightful +enjoyment! Cover the white flesh with caresses—it is public property! +a dozen kisses more or less will not signify! So I madly thought as I +crouched among the trees—the tigerish wrath within me making the blood +beat in my head like a hundred hammer-strokes. +</P> + +<P> +"Nay then, my love," he replied to her, "it is almost a pity Fabio is +dead! While he lived he played an excellent part as a screen—he was an +unconscious, but veritable duenna of propriety for both of us, as no +one else could be!" +</P> + +<P> +The boughs that covered me creaked and rustled. My wife started, and +looked uneasily round her. +</P> + +<P> +"Hush!" she said, nervously. "He was buried only yesterday—and they +say there are ghosts sometimes. This avenue, too—I wish we had not +come here—it was his favorite walk. Besides," she added, with a slight +accent of regret, "after all he was the father of my child—you must +think of that." +</P> + +<P> +"By Heaven!" exclaimed Guido, fiercely, "do I not think of it? Ay—and +I curse him for every kiss he stole from your lips!" +</P> + +<P> +I listened half stupefied. Here was a new phase of the marriage law! +Husbands were thieves then—they "stole" kisses; only lovers were +honest in their embraces! Oh, my dear friend—my more than brother—how +near you were to death at that moment! Had you but seen my face peering +pallidly through the dusky leaves—could you have known the force of +the fury pent up within me—you would not have valued your life at one +baiocco! +</P> + +<P> +"Why did you marry him?" he asked, after a little pause, during which +he toyed with the fair curls that floated against his breast. +</P> + +<P> +She looked up with a little mutinous pout, and shrugged her shoulders. +</P> + +<P> +"Why? Because I was tired of the convent, and all the stupid, solemn +ways of the nuns; also because he was rich, and I was horribly poor. I +cannot bear to be poor! Then he loved me"—here her eyes glimmered with +malicious triumph—"yes—he was mad for me—and—" +</P> + +<P> +"You loved him?" demanded Guido, almost fiercely. +</P> + +<P> +"Ma che!" she answered, with an expressive gesture. "I suppose I +did—for a week or two. As much as one ever loves a husband! What does +one marry for at all? For convenience—money—position—he gave me +these things, as you know." +</P> + +<P> +"You will gain nothing by marrying me, then," he said, jealously. +</P> + +<P> +She laughed, and laid her little white hand, glittering with rings, +lightly against his lips. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course not! Besides—have I said I will marry you? You are very +agreeable as a lover—but otherwise—I am not sure! And I am free +now—I can do as I like; I want to enjoy my liberty, and—" +</P> + +<P> +She was not allowed to complete her sentence, for Ferrari snatched her +close to his breast and held her there as in a vise. His face was +aflame with passion. +</P> + +<P> +"Look you, Nina," he said, hoarsely, "you shall not fool me, by Heaven! +you shall not! I have endured enough at your hands, God knows! When I +saw you for the first time on the day of your marriage with that poor +fool, Fabio—I loved you, madly—ay, wickedly as I then thought, but +not for the sin of it did I repent. I knew you were woman, not angel, +and I waited my time. It came—I sought you—I told you my story of +love ere three months of wedded life had passed ever your head. I found +you willing—ready—nay, eager to hear me! You led me on; you know you +did! You tempted me by touch, word and look; you gave me all I sought! +Why try to excuse it now? You are as much my wife as ever you were +Fabio's—nay—you are more so, for you love me—at least you say +so—and though you lied to your husband, you dare not lie to me. I tell +you, you DARE NOT! I never pitied Fabio, never—he was too easily +duped, and a married man has no right to be otherwise than suspicious +and ever on his guard; if he relaxes in his vigilance he has only +himself to blame when his honor is flung like a ball from hand to hand, +as one plays with a child's toy. I repeat to you, Nina, you are mine, +and I swear you shall never escape me!" +</P> + +<P> +The impetuous words coursed rapidly from his lips, and his deep musical +voice had a defiant ring as it fell on the stillness of the evening +air. I smiled bitterly as I heard! She struggled in his arms half +angrily. +</P> + +<P> +"Let me go," she said. "You are rough, you hurt me!" +</P> + +<P> +He released her instantly. The violence of his embrace had crushed the +rose she wore, and its crimson leaves fluttered slowly down one by one +on the ground at her feet. Her eyes flashed resentfully, and an +impatient frown contracted her fair level brows. She looked away from +him in silence, the silence of a cold disdain. Something in her +attitude pained him, for he sprung forward and caught her hand, +covering it with kisses. +</P> + +<P> +"Forgive me, carina mia" he cried, repentantly. "I did not mean to +reproach you. You cannot help being beautiful—it is the fault of God +or the devil that you are so, and that your beauty maddens me! You are +the heart of my heart, the soul of my soul! Oh, Nina mia, let us not +waste words in useless anger. Think of it, we are free—free! Free to +make life a long dream of delight—delight more perfect than angels can +know! The greatest blessing that could have befallen us is the death of +Fabio, and now that we are all in all to each other, do not harden +yourself against me! Nina, be gentle with me—of all things in the +world, surely love is best!" +</P> + +<P> +She smiled, with the pretty superior smile of a young empress pardoning +a recreant subject, and suffered him to draw her again, but with more +gentleness, into his embrace. She put up her lips to meet his—I looked +on like a man in a dream! I saw them cling together—each kiss they +exchanged was a fresh stab to my tortured soul. +</P> + +<P> +"You are so foolish, Guido mio" she pouted, passing her little jeweled +fingers through his clustering hair with a light caress—"so +impetuous—so jealous! I have told you over and over again that I love +you! Do you not remember that night when Fabio sat out on the balcony +reading his Plato, poor fellow!"—here she laughed musically—"and we +were trying over some songs in the drawing—room—did I not say then +that I loved you best of any one in the world? You know I did! You +ought to be satisfied!" +</P> + +<P> +Guido smiled, and stroked her shining golden curls. +</P> + +<P> +"I AM satisfied," he said, without any trace of his former heated +impatience—"perfectly satisfied. But do not expect to find love +without jealousy. Fabio was never jealous—I know—he trusted you too +implicitly—he was nothing of a lover, believe me! He thought more of +himself than of you. A man who will go away for days at a time on +solitary yachting and rambling excursions, leaving his wife to her own +devices—a man who reads Plato in preference to looking after HER, +decides his own fate, and deserves to be ranked with those so-called +wise but most ignorant philosophers to whom Woman has always remained +an unguessed riddle. As for me—I am jealous of the ground you tread +upon—of the air that touches you—I was jealous of Fabio while he +lived—and—by heaven!"—his eyes darkened with a somber wrath—"if any +other man dared now to dispute your love with me I would not rest till +his body had served my sword as a sheath!" +</P> + +<P> +Nina raised her head from his breast with an air of petulant weariness. +</P> + +<P> +"Again!" she murmured, reproachfully, "you are going to be angry AGAIN!" +</P> + +<P> +He kissed her. +</P> + +<P> +"Not I, sweet one! I will be as gentle as you wish, so long as you love +me and only me. Come—this avenue is damp and chilly for you—shall we +go in?" +</P> + +<P> +My wife—nay, I should say OUR wife, as we had both shared her +impartial favors—assented. With arms interlaced and walking slowly, +they began to retrace their steps toward the house. Once they paused. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you hear the nightingales?" asked Guido. +</P> + +<P> +Hear them! Who could not hear them? A shower of melody rained from the +trees on every side—the pure, sweet, passionate tones pierced the ear +like the repeated chime of little golden bells—the beautiful, the +tender, the God-inspired birds sung their love-stories simply and with +perfect rapture—love-stories untainted by hypocrisy—unsullied by +crime—different, ah! so very different from the love-stones of selfish +humanity! The exquisite poetic idyl of a bird's life and love—is it +not a thing to put us inferior creatures to shame—for are we ever as +true to our vows as the lark to his mate?—are we as sincere in our +thanksgivings for the sunlight as the merry robin who sings as blithely +in the winter snow as in the flower-filled mornings of spring? Nay—not +we! Our existence is but one long impotent protest against God, +combined with an insatiate desire to get the better of one another in +the struggle for base coin! +</P> + +<P> +Nina listened—and shivered, drawing her light scarf more closely about +her shoulders. +</P> + +<P> +"I hate them," she said, pettishly; "their noise is enough to pierce +one's ears. And HE used to be so fond of them! he used to sing—what +was it? +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + 'Ti salute, Rosignuolo,<BR> + Nel tuo duolo, il saluto!<BR> + Sei l'amante delta rosa<BR> + Che morendo si fa sposa!'"<BR> +</P> + +<P> +Her rich voice rippled out on the air, rivaling the songs of the +nightingales themselves. She broke off with a little laugh— +</P> + +<P> +"Poor Fabio! there was always a false note somewhere when he sung. +Come, Guido!" +</P> + +<P> +And they paced on quietly, as though their consciences were clean—as +though no just retribution dogged their steps—as though no shadow of a +terrible vengeance loomed in the heaven of their pilfered happiness! I +watched them steadily as they disappeared in the distance—I stretched +my head eagerly out from between the dark boughs and gazed after their +retreating figures till the last glimmer of my wife's white robe had +vanished behind the thick foliage. They were gone—they would return no +more that night. +</P> + +<P> +I sprung out from my hiding-place. I stood on the spot where they had +stood. I tried to bring home to myself the actual truth of what I had +witnessed. My brain whirled—circles of light swam giddily before me in +the air—the moon looked blood-red. The solid earth seemed unsteady +beneath my feet—almost I doubted whether I was indeed alive, or +whether I was not rather the wretched ghost of my past self, doomed to +return from the grave to look helplessly upon the loss and ruin of all +the fair, once precious things of by-gone days. The splendid universe +around me seemed no more upheld by the hand of God—no more a majestic +marvel; it was to me but an inflated bubble of emptiness—a mere ball +for devils to kick and spurn through space! Of what avail these +twinkling stars—these stately leaf-laden trees—these cups of +fragrance we know as flowers—this round wonder of the eyes called +Nature? of what avail was God Himself, I widely mused, since even He +could not keep one woman true? She whom I loved—she as delicate of +form, as angel-like in face as the child-bride of Christ, St. +Agnes—she, even she was—what? A thing lower than the beasts, a thing +as vile as the vilest wretch in female form that sells herself for a +gold piece—a thing—great Heaven!—for all men to despise and make +light of—for the finger of Scorn to point out—for the foul hissing +tongue of Scandal to mock at! This creature was my wife—the mother of +my child—she had cast mud on her soul by her own free will and +choice—she had selected evil as her good—she had crowned herself with +shame willingly, nay—joyfully; she had preferred it to honor. What +should be done? I tortured myself occasionally with this question. I +stared blankly on the ground—would some demon spring from it and give +me the answer I sought? What should be done with HER—with HIM, my +treacherous friend, my smiling betrayer? Suddenly my eyes lighted on +the fallen rose-leaves—those that had dropped when Guido's embrace had +crushed the flower she wore. There they lay on the path, curled softly +at the edges like little crimson shells. I stooped and picked them +up—I placed them all in the hollow of my hand and looked at them. They +had a sweet odor—almost I kissed them—nay, nay, I could not—they had +too recently lain on the breast of an embodied Lie! Yes; she was that, +a Lie, a living, lovely, but accursed Lie! "Go and kill her" Stay! +where had I heard that? Painfully I considered, and at last +remembered—and then I thought moodily that the starved and miserable +rag-picker was more of a man than I. He had taken his revenge at once; +while I, like a fool, had let occasion slip. Yes, but not forever! +There were different ways of vengeance; one must decide the best, the +keenest way—and, above all, the way that shall inflict the longest, +the cruelest agony upon those by whom honor is wronged. True—it would +be sweet to slay sin in the act of sinning, but then—must a Romani +brand himself as a murderer in the sight of men? Not so; there were +other means—other roads, leading to the same end if the tired brain +could only plan them out. Slowly I dragged my aching limbs to the +fallen trunk of a tree and sat down, still holding the dying +rose-leaves in my clinched palm. There was a surging noise in my +ears—my mouth tasted of blood, my lips were parched and burning as +with fever. "A white-haired fisherman." That was me! The king had said +so. Mechanically I looked down at the clothes I wore—the former +property of a suicide. "He was a fool," the vender of them had said, +"he killed himself." +</P> + +<P> +Yes, there was no doubt of it—he was a fool. I would not follow his +example, or at least not yet. I had something to do first—something +that must be done if I could only see my way clear to it. Yes—if I +could only see my way and follow it straightly, resolutely, +remorselessly! My thoughts were confused, like the thoughts of a +fever-stricken man in delirium—the scent of the rose-leaves I held +sickened me strangely—yet I would not throw them from me; no, I would +keep them to remind me of the embraces I had witnessed! I felt for my +purse! I found and opened it, and placed the withering red petals +carefully within it. As I slipped it again in my pocket I remembered +the two leathern pouches I carried—the one filled with gold, the other +with the jewels I had intended for—HER. My adventures in the vault +recurred to me; I smiled as I recollected the dire struggle I had made +for life and liberty. Life and liberty!—of what use were they to me +now, save for one thing—revenge? I was not wanted; I was not expected +back to refill my former place on earth—the large fortune I had +possessed was now my wife's by the decree of my own last will and +testament, which she would have no difficulty in proving. But still, +wealth was mine—the hidden stores of the brigands were sufficient to +make any man more than rich for the term of his natural life. As I +considered this, a sort of dull pleasure throbbed in my veins. Money! +Anything could be done for money—gold would purchase even vengeance. +But what sort of vengeance? Such a one as I sought must be +unique—refined, relentless, and complete. I pondered deeply. The +evening wind blew freshly up from the sea; the leaves of the swaying +trees whispered mysteriously together; the nightingales warbled on with +untired sweetness; and the moon, like the round shield of an angel +warrior, shone brightly against the dense blue background of the sky. +Heedless of the passing of hours, I sat still, lost in a bewildered +reverie. "There was always a false note somewhere when he sung!" So she +had said, laughing that little laugh of hers as cold and sharp as the +clash of steel. True, true; by all the majesty of Heaven, most true! +There was indeed a false note—jarring, not so much the voice as the +music of life itself. There is stuff in all of us that will weave, as +we desire it, into a web of stately or simple harmony; but let the +meteor-like brilliancy of a woman's smile—a woman's touch—a woman's +LIE—intermingle itself with the strain, and lo! the false note is +struck, discord declares itself, and God Himself, the great Composer, +can do nothing in this life to restore the old calm tune of peaceful, +unspoiled days! So I have found; so all of you must find, long before +you and sorrow grow old together. +</P> + +<P> +"A white-haired fisherman!" +</P> + +<P> +The words of the king repeated themselves over and over again in my +tortured brain. Yes—I was greatly changed, I looked worn and old—no +one would recognize me for my former self. All at once, with this +thought, an idea occurred to me—a plan of vengeance, so bold, so new, +and withal so terrible, that I started from my seat as though stung by +an adder. I paced up and down restlessly, with this lurid light of +fearful revenge pouring in on every nook and cranny of my darkened +mind. From whence had come this daring scheme? What devil, or rather +what angel of retribution, had whispered it to my soul? Dimly I +wondered—but amid all my wonder I began practically to arrange the +details of my plot. I calculated every small circumstance that was +likely to occur in the process of carrying it out. My stupefied senses +became aroused from the lethargy of despair, and stood up like soldiers +on the alert armed to the teeth. Past love, pity, pardon, +patience—pooh! what were all these resources of the world's weakness +to ME? What was it to me that the bleeding Christ forgave His enemies +in death? He never loved a woman! Strength and resolution returned to +me. Let common sailors and rag-pickers resort to murder and suicide as +fit outlets for their unreasoning brute wrath when wronged; but as for +me, why should I blot my family scutcheon with a merely vulgar crime? +Nay, the vengeance of a Romani must be taken with assured calmness and +easy deliberation—no haste, no plebeian fury, no effeminate fuss, no +excitement. I walked up and down slowly, meditating on every point of +the bitter drama in which I had resolved to enact the chief part, from +the rise to the fall of the black curtain. The mists cleared from my +brain—I breathed more easily—my nerves steadied themselves by +degrees—the prospect of what I purposed doing satisfied me and calmed +the fever in my blood. I became perfectly cool and collected. I +indulged in no more futile regrets for the past—why should I mourn the +loss of a love I never possessed? It was not as if they had waited till +my supposed sudden death—no! within three months of my marriage they +had fooled me; for three whole years they had indulged in their +criminal amour, while I, blind dreamer, had suspected nothing. NOW I +knew the extent of my injury; I was a man bitterly wronged, vilely +duped. Justice, reason, and self-respect demanded that I should punish +to the utmost the miserable tricksters who had played me false. The +passionate tenderness I had felt for my wife was gone—I plucked it +from my heart as I would have torn a thorn from my flesh—I flung it +from me with disgust as I had flung away the unseen reptile that had +fastened on my neck in the vault. The deep warm friendship of years I +had felt for Guido Ferrari froze to its very foundations—and in its +place there rose up, not hate, but pitiless, immeasurable contempt. A +stern disdain of myself also awoke in me, as I remembered the +unreasoning joy with which, I had hastened—as I thought—home, full of +eager anticipation and Romeo-like ardor. An idiot leaping merrily to +his death over a mountain chasm was not more fool than I! But the dream +was over—the delusion of my life was passed. I was strong to avenge—I +would be swift to accomplish. So, darkly musing for an hour or more, I +decided on the course I had to pursue, and to make the decision final I +drew from my breast the crucifix that the dead monk Cipriano had laid +with me in my coffin, and kissing it, I raised it aloft, and swore by +that sacred symbol never to relent, never to relax, never to rest, till +I had brought my vow of just vengeance to its utmost fulfillment. The +stars, calm witnesses of my oath, eyed me earnestly from their judgment +thrones in the quiet sky—there was a brief pause in the singing of the +nightingales, as though they too listened—the wind sighed plaintively, +and scattered a shower of jasmine blossoms like snow at my feet. Even +so, I thought, fall the last leaves of my white days—days of pleasure, +days of sweet illusion, days of dear remembrance; even so let them +wither and perish utterly forever! For from henceforth my life must be +something other than a mere garland of flowers—it must be a chain of +finely tempered steel, hard, cold, and unbreakable—formed into links +strong enough to wind round and round two false lives and imprison them +so closely as to leave no means of escape. This was what must be +done—and I resolved to do it. With a firm, quiet step I turned to +leave the avenue. I opened the little private wicket, and passed into +the dusty road. A clanging noise caused me to look up as I went by the +principal entrance of the Villa Romani. A man servant—my own +man-servant by the by—was barring the great gates for the night. I +listened as he slid the bolts into their places, and turned the key. I +remembered that those gates had been thoroughly fastened before, when I +came up the road from Naples—why then had they been opened since? To +let out a visitor? Of course! I smiled grimly at my wife's cunning! She +evidently knew what she was about. Appearances must be kept up—the +Signor Ferrari must be decorously shown out by a servant at the chief +entrance of the house. Naturally!—all very unsuspicious—looking and +quite in keeping with the proprieties! Guido had just left her then? I +walked steadily, without hurrying my pace, down the hill toward the +city, and on the way I overtook him. He was strolling lazily along, +smoking as usual, and he held a spray of stephanotis in his hand—well +I knew who had given it to him! I passed him—he glanced up carelessly, +his handsome face clearly visible in the bright moonlight—but there +was nothing about a common fisherman to attract his attention—his look +only rested upon me for a second and was withdrawn immediately. An +insane desire possessed me to turn upon him—to spring at his +throat—to wrestle with him and throw him in the dust at my feet—to +spit at him and trample upon him—but I repressed those fierce and +dangerous emotions. I had a better game to play—I had an exquisite +torture in store for him, compared to which a hand-to-hand fight was +mere vulgar fooling. Vengeance ought to ripen slowly in the strong heat +of intense wrath, till of itself it falls—hastily snatched before its +time it is like unmellowed fruit, sour and ungrateful to the palate. So +I let my dear friend—my wife's consoler—saunter on his heedless way +without interference—I passed, leaving him to indulge in amorous +musings to his false heart's content. I entered Naples, and found a +night's lodging at one of the usual resorts for men of my supposed +craft, and, strange to say, I slept soundly and dreamlessly. Recent +illness, fatigue, fear, and sorrow, all aided to throw me like an +exhausted child upon the quiet bosom of slumber, but perhaps the most +powerfully soothing opiate to my brain was the consciousness I had of a +practical plan of retribution—more terrible perhaps than any human +creature had yet devised, so far as I knew. Unchristian you call me? I +tell you again, Christ never loved a woman! Had He done so, He would +have left us some special code of justice. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap09"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER IX. +</H3> + +<P> +I rose very early the next morning—I was more than ever strengthened +in my resolutions of the past night—my projects were entirely formed, +and nothing remained now but for me to carry them out. Unobserved of +any one I took my way again to the vault. I carried with me a small +lantern, a hammer, and some strong nails. Arrived at the cemetery I +looked carefully everywhere about me, lest some stray mourner or +curious stranger might possibly be in the neighborhood. Not a soul was +in sight. Making use of the secret passage, I soon found myself on the +scene of my recent terrors and sufferings, all of which seemed now so +slight in comparison with, the mental torture of my present condition. +I went straight to the spot where I had left the coffined treasure—I +possessed myself of all the rolls of paper money, and disposed them in +various small packages about my person and in the lining of my clothes +till, as I stood, I was worth many thousand of francs. Then with the +help of the tools I had brought, I mended the huge chest in the split +places where I had forced it open, and nailed it up fast so that it +looked as if it had never been touched. I lost no time over my task, +for I was in haste. It was my intention to leave Naples for a fortnight +or more, and I purposed taking my departure that very day. Before +leaving the vault I glanced at the coffin I myself had occupied. Should +I mend that and nail it up as though my body were still inside? +No—better leave it as it was—roughly broken open—it would serve my +purpose better so. As soon as I had finished all I had to do, I +clambered through the private passage, closing it after me with extra +care and caution, and then I betook myself directly to the Molo. On +making inquiries among the sailors who were gathered there, I heard +that a small coasting brig was on the point of leaving for Palermo. +Palermo would suit me as well as any other place; I sought out the +captain of the vessel. He was a brown-faced, merry-eyed mariner—he +showed his glittering white teeth in the most amiable of smiles when I +expressed my desire to take passage with him, and consented to the +arrangement at once for a sum which I thought extremely moderate, but +which I afterward discovered to be about treble his rightful due. But +the handsome rogue cheated me with such grace and exquisite courtesy, +that I would scarcely have had him act otherwise than he did. I hear a +good deal of the "plain blunt honesty" of the English. I dare say there +is some truth in it, but for my own part I would rather be cheated by a +friendly fellow who gives you a cheery word and a bright look than +receive exact value for my money from the "plain blunt" boor who seldom +has the common politeness to wish you a good-day. +</P> + +<P> +We got under way at about nine o'clock—the morning was bright, and the +air, for Naples, was almost cool. The water rippling against the sides +of our little vessel had a gurgling, chatty murmur, as though it were +talking vivaciously of all the pleasant things it experienced between +the rising and the setting of the sun; of the corals and trailing +sea-weed that grew in its blue depths, of the lithe glittering fish +that darted hither and thither between its little waves, of the +delicate shells in which dwelt still more delicate inhabitants, +fantastic small creatures as fine as filmy lace, that peeped from the +white and pink doors of their transparent habitations, and looked as +enjoyingly on the shimmering blue-green of their ever-moving element as +we look on the vast dome of our sky, bespangled thickly with stars. Of +all these things, and many more as strange and sweet, the gossiping +water babbled unceasingly; it had even something to say to me +concerning woman and woman's love. It told me gleefully how many fair +female bodies it had seen sunk in the cold embrace of the conquering +sea, bodies, dainty and soft as the sylphs of a poet's dream, yet +which, despite their exquisite beauty, had been flung to and fro in +cruel sport by the raging billows, and tossed among pebbles for the +monsters of the deep to feed upon. +</P> + +<P> +As I sat idly on the vessel's edge and looked down, down into the clear +Mediterranean, brilliantly blue as a lake of melted sapphires, I +fancied I could see her the Delilah of my life, lying prone on the +golden sand, her rich hair floating straightly around her like yellow +weed, her hands clinched in the death agony, her laughing lips blue +with the piercing chilliness of the washing tide—powerless to move or +smile again. She would look well so, I thought—better to my mind than +she looked in the arms of her lover last night. I fell into a train of +profound meditation—a touch on my shoulder startled me. I looked up, +the captain of the brig stood beside me. He smiled and held out a +cigarette. +</P> + +<P> +"The signor will smoke?" he said courteously. +</P> + +<P> +I accepted the little roll of fragrant Havanna half mechanically. +</P> + +<P> +"Why do you call me signor?" I inquired brusquely. "I am a +coral-fisher." +</P> + +<P> +The little man shrugged his shoulders and bowed deferentially, yet with +the smile still dancing gayly in his eyes and dimpling his olive cheeks. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, certainly! As the signor pleases—ma—" And he ended with another +expressive shrug and bow. +</P> + +<P> +I looked at him fixedly. "What do you mean?" I asked with some +sternness. +</P> + +<P> +With that birdlike lightness and swiftness which were part of his +manner, the Sicilian skipper bent forward and laid a brown finger on my +wrist. +</P> + +<P> +"Scusa, vi prego! But the hands are not those of a fisher of coral." +</P> + +<P> +I glanced down at them. True enough, their smoothness and pliant shape +betrayed my disguise—the gay little captain was sharp-witted enough to +note the contrast between them and the rough garb I wore, though no one +else with whom I had come in contact had been as keen of observation as +he. At first I was slightly embarrassed by his remark—but after a +moment's pause I met his gaze frankly, and lighting my cigarette I +said, carelessly: +</P> + +<P> +"Ebbene! And what then, my friend?" +</P> + +<P> +He made a deprecatory gesture with his hands. +</P> + +<P> +"Nay, nay, nothing—but only this. The signor must understand he is +perfectly safe with me. My tongue is discreet—I talk of things only +that concern myself. The signor has good reasons for what he does—of +that I am sure. He has suffered; it is enough to look in his face to +see that. Ah, Dio if there are so many sorrows in life; there is love," +he enumerated rapidly on his fingers—"there is revenge—there are +quarrels—there is loss of money; any of these will drive a man from +place to place at all hours and in all weathers. Yes; it is so, +indeed—I know it! The signor has trusted himself in my boat—I desire +to assure him of my best services." +</P> + +<P> +And he raised his red cap with so charming a candor that in my lonely +and morose condition I was touched to the heart. Silently I extended my +hand—he caught it with an air in which respect, sympathy, and entire +friendliness were mingled. And yet he overcharged me for my passage, +you exclaim! Ay—but he would not have made me the object of +impertinent curiosity for twenty times the money! You cannot understand +the existence of such conflicting elements in the Italian character? +No—I dare say not. The tendency of the calculating northerner under +the same circumstances would have been to make as much out of me as +possible by means of various small and contemptible items, and then to +go with broadly honest countenance to the nearest police-station and +describe my suspicious appearance and manner, thus exposing me to fresh +expense besides personal annoyance. With the rare tact that +distinguishes the southern races the captain changed the conversation +by a reference to the tobacco we were both enjoying. +</P> + +<P> +"It is good, is it not?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Excellent!" I answered, as indeed it was. +</P> + +<P> +His white teeth glittered in a smile of amusement. +</P> + +<P> +"It should be of the finest quality—for it is a present from one who +will smoke nothing but the choice brands. Ah, Dio! what a fine +gentleman spoiled is Carmelo Neri!" +</P> + +<P> +I could not repress a slight start of surprise. What caprice of Fate +associated me with this famous brigand? I was actually smoking his +tobacco, and I owed all my present wealth to his stolen treasures +secreted in my family vault! +</P> + +<P> +"You know the man, then?" I inquired with some curiosity. +</P> + +<P> +"Know him? As well as I know myself. Let me see, it is two +months—yes—two months to-day since he was with me on board this very +vessel. It happened in this way—I was at Gaeta—he came to me and told +me the gendarmes were after him. He offered me more gold than I ever +had in my life to take him to Termini, from whence he could get to one +of his hiding-places in the Montemaggiore. He brought Teresa with him; +he found me alone on the brig, my men had gone ashore. He said, 'Take +us to Termini and I will give you so much; refuse and I will slit your +throat.' Ha! ha! ha! That was good. I laughed at him. I put a chair for +Teresa on deck, and gave her some big peaches. I said, 'See, my +Carmelo! what use is there in threats? You will not kill me, and I +shall not betray you. You are a thief, and a bad thief—by all the +saints you are—but I dare say you would not be much worse than the +hotel-keepers, if you could only keep your hand off your knife.' (For +you know, signor, if you once enter a hotel you must pay almost a +ransom before you can get out again!) Yes—and I reasoned with Carmelo +in this manner: I told him, 'I do not want a large fortune for carrying +you and Teresa across to Termini—pay me the just passage and we shall +part friends, if only for Teresa's sake.' Well, he was surprised. He +smiled that dark smile of his, which may mean gratitude or murder. He +looked at Teresa. She sprung up from her seat, and let her peaches fall +from her lap on the deck. She put her little hands on mine—the tears +were in her pretty blue eyes. 'You are a good man,' she said. 'Some +woman must love you very much!' Yes—she said that. And she was right. +Our Lady be praised for it!" +</P> + +<P> +And his dark eyes glanced upward with a devout gesture of thanksgiving. +I looked at him with a sort of jealous hunger gnawing at my heart. Here +was another self deluded fool—a fond wretch feasting on the +unsubstantial food of a pleasant dream—a poor dupe who believed in the +truth of woman! +</P> + +<P> +"You are a happy man," I said with a forced smile; "you have a guiding +star for your life as well as for your boat—a woman that loves you and +is faithful? is it so?" +</P> + +<P> +He answered me directly and simply, raising his cap slightly as he did +so. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, signor—my mother." +</P> + +<P> +I was deeply touched by his naive and unexpected reply—more deeply +than I cared to show. A bitter regret stirred in my soul—why, oh, why +had my mother died so young! Why had I never known the sacred joy that +seemed to vibrate through the frame, and sparkle in the eyes of this +common sailor! Why must I be forever alone, with a curse of a woman's +lie on my life, weighing me down to the dust and ashes of a desolate +despair! Something in my face must have spoken my thoughts, for the +captain said, gently: +</P> + +<P> +"The signor has no mother?" +</P> + +<P> +"She died when I was but a child," I answered, briefly. +</P> + +<P> +The Sicilian puffed lightly at his cigarette in silence—the silence of +an evident compassion. To relieve him of his friendly embarrassment, I +said: +</P> + +<P> +"You spoke of Teresa? Who is Teresa?" +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, you may well ask, signor! No one knows who she is; she loves +Carmelo Neri, and there all is said. Such a little thing she is—so +delicate! like a foam-bell on the waves; and Carmelo—You have seen +Carmelo, signor?" +</P> + +<P> +I shook my head in the negative. +</P> + +<P> +"Ebbene! Carmelo is big and rough and black like a wolf of the forests, +all hair and fangs; Teresa is, well! you have seen a little cloud in +the sky at night, wandering past the moon all flecked with pale +gold?—that is Teresa. She is, small and slight as a child; she has +rippling curls, and soft praying eyes, and tiny, weak, white hands, not +strong enough to snap a twig in two. Yet she can do anything with +Carmelo—she is the one soft spot in his life." +</P> + +<P> +"I wonder if she is true to him," I muttered, half to myself and half +aloud. +</P> + +<P> +The captain caught up my words with an accent of surprise. +</P> + +<P> +"True to him? Ah, Dio! but the signor does not know her. There was one +of Carmelo's own band, as bold and handsome a cut-throat as ever +lived—he was mad for Teresa—he followed her everywhere like a beaten +cur. One day he found her alone; he tried to embrace her—she snatched +a knife from his own girdle and stabbed him with it, like a little +fury! She did not kill him then, but Carmelo did afterward. To think of +a little woman like that with such a devil in her! It is her boast that +no man, save Carmelo, has ever touched so much as a ringlet of her +hair. Ay; she is true to him—more's the pity." +</P> + +<P> +"Why—you would not have her false?" I asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Nay, nay—for a false woman deserves death—but still it is a pity +Teresa should have fixed her love on Carmelo. Such a man! One day the +gendarmes will have him, then he will be in the galleys for life, and +she will die. Yes—you may be sure of that! If grief does not kill her +quickly enough, then she will kill herself, that is certain! She is +slight and frail to look at as a flower, but her soul is strong as +iron. She, will have her own way in death as well as in love—some +women are made so, and it is generally the weakest-looking among them +who have the most courage." +</P> + +<P> +Our conversation was here interrupted by one of the sailors who came +for his master's orders. The talkative skipper, with an apologetic +smile and bow, placed his box of cigarettes beside me where I sat, and +left me to my own reflections. +</P> + +<P> +I was not sorry to be alone. I needed a little breathing time—a rest +in which to think, though my thoughts, like a new solar system, +revolved round the red planet of one central idea, VENGEANCE. "A false +woman deserves death." Even this simple Sicilian mariner said so. "Go +and kill her, go and kill her!" These words reiterated themselves over +and over again in my ears, till I found myself almost uttering them +aloud. My soul sickened at the contemplation of the woman Teresa—the +mistress of a wretched brigand whose name was fraught with +horror—whose looks were terrific—she, even SHE could keep herself +sacred from the profaning touch of other men's caresses—she was proud +of being faithful to her wolf of the mountains, whose temper was +uncertain and treacherous—she could make lawful boast of her fidelity +to her blood-stained lover—while Nina—the wedded wife of a noble +whose descent was lofty and unsullied, could tear off the fair crown of +honorable marriage and cast it in the dust—could take the dignity of +an ancient family and trample upon it—could make herself so low and +vile that even this common Teresa, knowing all, might and most probably +would, refuse to touch her hand, considering it polluted. Just God! +what had Carmelo Neri done to deserve the priceless jewel of a true +woman's heart? what had I done to merit such foul deception as that +which I was now called upon to avenge? Suddenly I thought of my child. +Her memory came upon me like a ray of light—I had almost forgotten +her. Poor little blossom!—the slow hot tears forced themselves between +my eyelids, as I called up before my fancy the picture of the soft baby +face—the young untroubled eyes—the little coaxing mouth always +budding into innocent kisses! What should I do with her? When the plan +of punishment I had matured in my brain was carried out to its utmost, +should I take her with me far, far away into some quiet corner of the +world, and devote my life to hers? Alas! alas! she, too, would be a +woman and beautiful—she was a flower born of a poisoned tree, who +could say that there might not be a canker-worm hidden even in her +heart, which waited but for the touch of maturity to commence its work +of destruction! Oh, men! you that have serpents coiled round your lives +in the shape of fair false women—if God has given you children by +them, the curse descends upon you doubly! Hide it as you will under the +society masks we are all forced to wear, you know there is nothing more +keenly torturing than to see innocent babes look trustingly in the +deceitful eyes of an unfaithful wife, and call her by the sacred name +of "Mother." Eat ashes and drink wormwood, you shall find them sweet in +comparison to that nauseating bitterness! For the rest of the day I was +very much alone. The captain of the brig spoke cheerily to me now and +then, but we were met by light contrary winds that necessitated his +giving most of his attention to the management of his vessel, so that +he could not permit himself to yield to the love of gossip that was +inherent in him. The weather was perfect, and notwithstanding our +constant shifting and tacking about to catch the erratic breeze, the +gay little brig made merry and rapid way over the sparkling +Mediterranean, at a rate that promised our arrival at Palermo by the +sunset of the following day. As the evening came on the wind freshened, +and by the time the moon soared like a large blight bird into the sky, +we were scudding along sideways, the edge of our vessel leaning over to +kiss the waves that gleamed like silver and gold, flecked here and +there with phosphorescent flame. We skimmed almost under the bows of a +magnificent yacht—the English flag floated from her mast—her sails +glittered purely white in the moonbeams, and she sprung over the water +like a sea-gull. A man, whose tall athletic figure was shown off to +advantage by the yachting costume he wore, stood on deck, his arm +thrown round the waist of a girl beside him. We were but a minute or +two passing the stately vessel, yet I saw plainly this loving group of +two, and—I pitied the man! Why? He was English undoubtedly—the son of +a country where the very soil is supposed to be odorous of +virtue—therefore the woman beside him must be a perfect pearl of +purity; an Englishman never makes a mistake in these things! Never? Are +you sure? Ah, believe me, there is not much difference nowadays between +women of opposite nations. Once there was—I am willing to admit that +possibility. Once, from all accounts received, the English rose was the +fitting emblem of the English woman, but now, since the world has grown +so wise and made such progress in the art of running rapidly downhill, +is even the aristocratic British peer quite easy in his mind regarding +his fair peeress? Can he leave her to her own devices with safety? Are +there not men, boastful too of their "blue blood," who are perhaps +ready to stoop to the thief's trick of entering his house during his +absence by means of private keys, and stealing away his wife's +affections?—and is not she, though a mother of three or four children, +ready to receive with favor the mean robber of her husband's rights and +honor? Read the London newspapers any day and you will find that once +"moral" England is running a neck and neck race with other less +hypocritical nations in pursuit of social vice. The barriers that once +existed are broken down; "professional beauties" are received in +circles where their presence formerly would have been the signal for +all respectable women instantly to retire; ladies of title are +satisfied to caper on the boards of the theatrical stage, in costumes +that display their shape as undisguisedly as possible to the eyes of +the grinning public, or they sing in concert halls for the pleasure of +showing themselves off, and actually accept the vulgar applause of +unwashed crowds with a smile and a bow of gratitude! Ye gods! what has +become of the superb pride of the old regime—the pride which disdained +all ostentation and clung to honor more closely than life! What a +striking sign of the times too, is this: let a woman taint her virtue +BEFORE marriage, she is never forgiven—her sin is never forgotten; but +let her do what she will when she has a husband's name to screen her, +and society winks its eyes at her crimes. Couple this fact with the +general spirit of mockery that prevails in fashionable circles—mockery +of religion, mockery of sentiment, mockery of all that is best and +noblest in the human heart—add to it the general spread of +"free-thought," and THEREFORE of conflicting and unstable opinions—let +all these things together go on for a few years longer and England will +stare at her sister nations like a bold woman in a domino—her features +partly concealed from a pretense at shame, but her eyes glittering +coldly through the mask, betraying to all who look at her how she +secretly revels in her new code of lawlessness coupled with greed. For +she will always be avaricious—and the worst of it is, that her nature +being prosaic, there will be no redeeming grace to cast a glamour about +her. France is unvirtuous enough, God knows, yet there is a sunshiny +smile on her lips that cheers the heart. Italy is also unvirtuous, yet +her voice is full of bird-like melody, and her face is a dream of +perfect poetry! But England unvirtuous will be like a cautiously +calculating, somewhat shrewish matron, possessed of unnatural and +unbecoming friskiness, without either laugh, or song, or smile—her one +god, Gold, and her one commandment, the suggested eleventh, "Thou shall +not be found out!" +</P> + +<P> +I slept that night on deck. The captain offered me the use of his +little cabin, and was, in his kind-hearted manner, truly distressed at +my persistent refusal to occupy it. +</P> + +<P> +"It is bad to sleep in the moonlight, signor," he said, anxiously. "It +makes men mad, they say." +</P> + +<P> +I smiled. Had madness been my destiny, I should have gone mad last +night, I thought! +</P> + +<P> +"Have no fear!" I answered him, gently. "The moonlight is a joy to +me—it has no impression on my mind save that of peace. I shall rest +well here, my friend—do not trouble yourself about me." +</P> + +<P> +He hesitated and then abruptly left me, to return in the space of two +or three minutes with a thick rug of sheepskin. He insisted so +earnestly on my accepting this covering as a protection from the night +air, that, to please him, I yielded to his entreaties and lay down, +wrapped in its warm folds. The good-natured fellow then wished me a +"Buon riposo, signor!" and descended to his own resting-place, humming +a gay tune as he went. From my recumbent posture on the deck I stared +upward at the myriad stars that twinkled softly in the warm violet +skies—stared long and fixedly till it seemed to me that our ship had +also become a star, and was sailing through space with its glittering +companions. What inhabitants peopled those fair planets, I wondered? +Mere men and women who lived and loved and lied to one another as +bravely as we do? or superior beings to whom the least falsehood is +unknown? Was there one world among them where no women were born? Vague +fancies—odd theories—flitted through my brain, I lived over again the +agony of my imprisonment in the vaults—again I forced myself to +contemplate the scene I had witnessed between my wife and her +lover—again I meditated on every small detail requisite to the +fulfillment of the terrible vengeance I had designed. I have often +wondered how, in countries where divorce is allowed, a wronged husband +can satisfy himself with so meager a compensation for his injuries as +the mere getting rid of the woman who has deceived him. It is no +punishment to her—it is what she wishes. There is not even any very +special disgrace in it according to the present standard of social +observances. Were public whipping the recognized penalty for the crime +of a married woman's infidelity, there would be fewer of the like +scandals—the divorce might follow the scourging. A daintily brought-up +feminine creature would think twice, nay, fifty times, before she would +run the risk of allowing her delicate body to be lashed by whips +wielded by the merciless hands of a couple of her own sex—such a +prospect of degradation, pain, shame, and outraged vanity would be more +effectual to kill the brute in her than all the imposing ceremonials of +courts of law and special juries. Think of it, kings, lords, and +commons! Whipping at the cart's tail was once a legal punishment—if +you would stop the growing immorality and reckless vice of women you +had best revive it again—only apply it to rich as well as to poor, for +it is most probable that the gay duchesses and countesses of your lands +will need its sharp services more frequently than the work-worn wives +of your laboring men. Luxury, idleness, and love of dress are hot-beds +for sin—look for it, therefore, not so much in the hovels of the +starving and naked as in the rose-tinted, musk-scented boudoirs of the +aristocracy—look for it, as your brave physicians would search out the +seeds of a pestilence that threatens to depopulate a great city, and +trample it out if you CAN and WILL—if you desire to keep the name of +your countries glorious in the eyes of future history. Spare not the +rod because "my lady" forsooth! with her rich hair falling around her +in beauteous dishevelment and her eyes bathed in tears, implores your +mercy—for by very reason of her wealth and station she deserves less +pity than the painted outcast who knows not where to turn for bread. A +high post demands high duty! But I talk wildly. Whipping is done away +with, for women at least—we give a well-bred shudder of disgust at the +thought of it. When do we shudder with equal disgust at our own social +enormities? Seldom or never. Meanwhile, in cases of infidelity, +husbands and wives can separate and go on their different ways in +comparative peace. Yes—some can and some do; but I am not one of +these. No law in all the world can mend the torn flag of MY honor; +therefore I must be a law to myself—a counsel, a jury, a judge, all in +one and from my decision there can be no appeal! Then I must act as +executioner—and what torture was ever so perfectly unique as the one I +have devised? So I mused, lying broadly awake, with face upturned to +the heavens, watching the light of the moon pouring itself out on the +ocean like a shower of gold, while the water rushed gurgling softly +against the sides of the brig, and broke into the laughter of white +foam as we scudded along. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap10"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER X. +</H3> + +<P> +All the next day the wind was in our favor, and we arrived at Palermo +an hour before sunset. We had scarcely run into harbor when a small +party of officers and gendarmes, heavily laden with pistols and +carbines, came on board and showed a document authorizing them to +search the brig for Carmelo Neri. I was somewhat anxious for the safety +of my good friend the captain—but he was in nowise dismayed; he smiled +and welcomed the armed emissaries of the government as though they were +his dearest friends. +</P> + +<P> +"To give you my opinion frankly," he said to them, as he opened a flask +of line Chianti for their behoof, "I believe the villain Carmelo is +somewhere about Gaeta. I would not tell you a lie—why should I? Is +there not a reward offered, and am not I poor? Look you, I would do my +best to assist you!" +</P> + +<P> +One of the men looked at him dubiously. +</P> + +<P> +"We received information," he said, in precise, business-like tones, +"that Neri escaped from Gaeta two months since, and was aided and +abetted in his escape by one Andrea Luziani, owner of the coasting brig +'Laura,' journeying for purposes of trade between Naples and Palermo. +You are Andrea Luziani, and this is the brig 'Laura,'—we are right in +this; is it not so?" +</P> + +<P> +"As if you could ever be wrong, caro!" cried the captain with +undiminished gayety, clapping him on the shoulder. "Nay, if St. Peter +should have the bad taste to shut you out of heaven, you would be +cunning enough to find another and better entrance! Ah, Dio! I believe +it! Yes, you are right about my name and the name of my brig, but in +the other things,"—here he shook his fingers with an expressive sign +of denial—"you are wrong—wrong—all wrong!" He broke into a gay +laugh. "Yes, wrong—but we will not quarrel about it! Have some more +Chianti! Searching for brigands is thirsty work. Fill your glasses, +amici—spare not the flask—there are twenty more below stairs!" +</P> + +<P> +The officers smiled in spite of themselves, as they drank the proffered +wine, and the youngest-looking of the party, a brisk, handsome fellow, +entered into the spirit of the captain with ardor, though he evidently +thought he should trap him into a confession unawares, by the apparent +carelessness and bonhomie of his manner. +</P> + +<P> +"Bravo, Andrea!" he cried, merrily. "So! let us all be friends +together! Besides, what harm is there in taking a brigand for a +passenger—no doubt he would pay you better than most cargoes!" +</P> + +<P> +But Andrea was not to be so caught. On the contrary; he raised his +hands and eyes with an admirably feigned expression of shocked alarm. +</P> + +<P> +"Our Lady and the saints forgive you!" he exclaimed, piously, "for +thinking that I, an honest marinaro, would accept one baiocco from an +accursed brigand! Ill-luck would follow me ever after! Nay, nay—there +has been a mistake; I know nothing of Carmelo Neri, and I hope the +saints will grant that I may never meet him!" +</P> + +<P> +He spoke with so much apparent sincerity that the officers in command +were evidently puzzled, though the fact of their being so did not deter +them from searching the brig thoroughly. Disappointed in their +expectations, they questioned all on board, including myself, but were +of course unable to obtain any satisfactory replies. Fortunately they +accepted my costume as a sign of my trade, and though they glanced +curiously at my white hair, they seemed to think there was nothing +suspicious about me. After a few more effusive compliments and +civilities on the part of the captain, they took their departure, +completely baffled, and quite convinced that the information they had +received had been somehow incorrect. As soon as they were out of sight, +the merry Andrea capered on his deck like a child in a play-ground, and +snapped his fingers defiantly. +</P> + +<P> +"Per Bacco!" he cried, ecstatically, "they should as soon make a priest +tell confessional secrets, as force me, honest Andrea Luziani, to +betray a man who has given me good cigars! Let them run back to Gaeta +and hunt in every hole and corner! Carmelo may rest comfortably in the +Montemaggiore without the shadow of a gendarme to disturb him! Ah, +signor!" for I had advanced to bid him farewell—"I am truly sorry to +part company with you! You do not blame me for helping away a poor +devil who trusts me?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not I!" I answered him heartily. "On the contrary, I would there were +more like you. Addio I and with this," here I gave him the +passage-money we had agreed upon, "accept my thanks. I shall not forget +your kindness; if you ever need a friend, send to me." +</P> + +<P> +"But," he said, with a naive mingling of curiosity and timidity, "how +can I do that if the signor does not tell me his name?" +</P> + +<P> +I had thought of this during the past night. I knew it would be +necessary to take a different name, and I had resolved on adopting that +of a school-friend, a boy to whom I had been profoundly attached in my +earliest youth, and who had been drowned before my eyes while bathing +in the Venetian Lido. So I answered Andrea's question at once and +without effort. +</P> + +<P> +"Ask for the Count Cesare Oliva," I said. "I shall return to Naples +shortly, and should you seek me, you will find me there." +</P> + +<P> +The Sicilian doffed his cap and saluted me profoundly. +</P> + +<P> +"I guessed well," he remarked, smilingly, "that the Signor Conte's +hands were not those of a coral-fisher. Oh, yes! I know a gentleman +when I see him—though we Sicilians say we are all gentlemen. It is a +good boast, but alas! not always true! A rivederci, signor! Command me +when you will—I am your servant!" +</P> + +<P> +Pressing his hand, I sprung lightly from the brig on to the quay. +</P> + +<P> +"A rivederci!" I called to him. "Again, and yet again, a thousand +thanks!" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh! tropp' onore, signor—tropp' onore!" and thus I left him, standing +still bareheaded on the deck of his little vessel, with a kindly light +on his brown face like the reflection of a fadeless sunbeam. +Good-hearted, merry rogue! His ideas of right and wrong were oddly +mixed—yet his lies were better than many truths told us by our candid +friends—and you may be certain the great Recording Angel knows the +difference between a lie that saves and a truth that kills, and metes +out Heaven's reward or punishment accordingly. +</P> + +<P> +My first care, when I found myself in the streets of Palermo, was to +purchase clothes of the best material and make adapted to a gentleman's +wear. I explained to the tailor whose shop I entered for this purpose +that I had joined a party of coral-fishers for mere amusement, and had +for the time adopted their costume. He believed my story the more +readily as I ordered him to make several more suits for me immediately, +giving him the name of Count Cesare Oliva, and the address of the best +hotel in the city. He served me with obsequious humility, and allowed +me the use of his private back-room, where I discarded my fisher garb +for the dress of a gentleman—a ready-made suit that happened to fit me +passably well. Thus arrayed as became my station, I engaged rooms at +the chief hotel of Palermo for some weeks—weeks that were for me full +of careful preparation for the task of vengeful retribution that lay +before me. One of my principal objects was to place the money I had +with me in safe hands. I sought out the leading banker in Palermo, and +introducing myself under my adopted name, I stated that I had newly +returned to Sicily after some years' absence. He received me well, and +though he appeared astonished at the large amount of wealth I had +brought, he was eager and willing enough to make satisfactory +arrangements with me for its safe keeping, including the bag of jewels, +some of which, from their unusual size and luster, excited his genuine +admiration. Seeing this, I pressed on his acceptance a fine emerald and +two large brilliants, all unset, and requested him to have a ring made +of them for his own wear. Surprised at my generosity, he at first +refused—but his natural wish to possess such rare gems finally +prevailed, and he took them, overpowering me with thanks—while I was +perfectly satisfied to see that I had secured his services so +thoroughly by my jeweled bribe, that he either forgot, or else saw no +necessity to ask me for personal references, which in my position would +have been exceeding difficult, if not impossible, to obtain. When this +business transaction was entirely completed, I devoted myself to my +next consideration—which was to disguise myself so utterly that no one +should possibly be able to recognize the smallest resemblance in me to +the late Fabio Romani, either by look, voice, or trick of manner. I had +always worn a mustache—it had turned white in company with my hair. I +now allowed my beard to grow—it came out white also. But in contrast +with these contemporary signs of age, my face began to fill up and look +young again; my eyes, always large and dark, resumed their old +flashing, half-defiant look—a look, which it seemed to me, would make +some familiar suggestion to those who had once known me as I was before +I died. Yes—they spoke of things that must be forgotten and unuttered; +what should I do with these tell-tale eyes of mine? +</P> + +<P> +I thought, and soon decided. Nothing was easier than to feign weak +sight-sight that was dazzled by the heat and brilliancy of the southern +sunshine, I would wear smoke-colored glasses. I bought them as soon as +the idea occurred to me, and alone in my room before the mirror I tried +their effect. I was satisfied; they perfectly completed the disguise of +my face. With them and my white hair and beard, I looked like a +well-preserved man of fifty-five or so, whose only physical ailment was +a slight affection of the eyes. +</P> + +<P> +The next thing to alter was my voice. I had, naturally, a peculiarly +soft voice and a rapid, yet clear, enunciation, and it was my habit, as +it is the habit of almost every Italian, to accompany my words with the +expressive pantomime of gesture. I took myself in training as an actor +studies for a particular part. I cultivated a harsh accent, and spoke +with deliberation and coldness—occasionally with a sort of sarcastic +brusquerie, carefully avoiding the least movement of hands or head +during converse. This was exceedingly difficult of attainment to me, +and took me an infinite deal of time and trouble; but I had for my +model a middle-aged Englishman who was staying in the same hotel as +myself, and whose starched stolidity never relaxed for a single +instant. He was a human iceberg—perfectly respectable, with that air +of decent gloom about him which is generally worn by all the sons of +Britain while sojourning in a foreign clime. I copied his manners as +closely as possible; I kept my mouth shut with the same precise air of +not-to-be-enlightened obstinacy—I walked with the same upright drill +demeanor—and I surveyed the scenery with the same superior contempt. I +knew I had succeeded at last, for I overheard a waiter speaking of me +to his companion as "the white bear!" +</P> + +<P> +One other thing I did. I wrote a courteous note to the editor of the +principal newspaper published in Naples—a newspaper that I knew always +found its way to the Villa Romani—and inclosing fifty francs, I +requested him to insert a paragraph for me in his next issue, This +paragraph was worded somewhat as follows: +</P> + +<P> +"The Signor Conte Cesare Oliva, a nobleman who has been for many years +absent from his native country, has, we understand, just returned, +possessed of almost fabulous wealth, and is about to arrive in Naples, +where he purposes making his home for the future. The leaders of +society here will no doubt welcome with enthusiasm so distinguished an +addition to the brilliant circles commanded by their influence." +</P> + +<P> +The editor obeyed my wishes, and inserted what I sent him, word for +word as it was written. He sent me the paper containing it "with a +million compliments," but was discreetly silent concerning the fifty +francs, though I am certain he pocketed them with unaffected joy. Had I +sent him double the money, he might have been induced to announce me as +a king or emperor in disguise. Editors of newspapers lay claim to be +honorable men; they may be so in England, but in Italy most of them +would do anything for money. Poor devils! who can blame them, +considering how little they get by their limited dealings in pen and +ink! In fact, I am not at all certain but that a few English newspaper +editors might be found capable of accepting a bribe, if large enough, +and if offered with due delicacy. There are surely one or two +magazines, for instance, in London, that would not altogether refuse to +insert an indifferently, even badly written article, if paid a thousand +pounds down for doing it! +</P> + +<P> +On the last day but one of my sojourn in Palermo I was reclining in an +easy-chair at the window of the hotel smoking-room, looking out on the +shimmering waters of the gulf. It was nearly eight o'clock, and though +the gorgeous colors of the sunset still lingered in the sky, the breeze +blew in from the sea somewhat coldly, giving warning of an approaching +chilly night. The character I had adopted, namely that of a somewhat +harsh and cynical man who had seen life and did not like it, had by +constant hourly practice become with me almost second nature—indeed, I +should have had some difficulty in returning to the easy and +thoughtless abandon of my former self. I had studied the art of being +churlish till I really WAS churlish; I had to act the chief character +in a drama, and I knew my part thoroughly well. I sat quietly puffing +at my cigar and thinking of nothing in particular—for, as far as my +plans went, I had done with thought, and all my energies were strung up +to action—when I was startled by a loud and increasing clamor, as of +the shouting of a large crowd coming onward like an overflowing tide. I +leaned out of the window, but could see nothing, and I was wondering +what the noise could mean, when an excited waiter threw open the door +of the smoking-room and cried, breathlessly: +</P> + +<P> +"Carmelo Neri, signor! Carmelo Neri! They have him, poverino! they have +him at last!" +</P> + +<P> +Though almost as strongly interested in this news as the waiter +himself, I did not permit my interest to become manifest. I never +forgot for a second the character I had assumed, and drawing the cigar +slowly from my lips I merely said: +</P> + +<P> +"Then they have caught a great rascal. I congratulate the Government! +Where is the fellow?" +</P> + +<P> +"In the great square," returned the garcon, eagerly. "If the signor +would walk round the corner he would see Carmelo, bound and fettered. +The saints have mercy upon him! The crowds there are thick as flies +round a honeycomb! I must go thither myself—I would not miss the sight +for a thousand francs!" +</P> + +<P> +And he ran off, as full of the anticipated delight of looking at a +brigand as a child going to its first fair. I put on my hat and +strolled leisurely round to the scene of excitement. It was a +picturesque sight enough; the square was black with a sea of eager +heads, and restless, gesticulating figures, and the center of this +swaying, muttering crowd was occupied by a compact band of mounted +gendarmes with drawn swords flashing in the pale evening light—both +horses and men nearly as motionless as though cast in bronze. They were +stationed opposite the head-quarters of the Carabinieri, where the +chief officer of the party had dismounted to make his formal report +respecting the details of the capture before proceeding further. +Between these armed and watchful guards, with his legs strapped to a +sturdy mule, his arms tied fast behind him, and his hands heavily +manacled, was the notorious Neri, as dark and fierce as a mountain +thunder-storm. His head was uncovered—his thick hair, long and +unkempt, hung in matted locks upon his shoulders—his heavy mustachios +and beard were so black and bushy that they almost concealed his coarse +and forbidding features—though I could see the tiger-like glitter of +his sharp white teeth as he bit and gnawed his under lip in impotent +fury and despair—and his eyes, like leaping flames, blazed with a +wrathful ferocity from under his shaggy brows. He was a huge, heavy +man, broad and muscular; his two hands clinched, tied and manacled +behind him, looked like formidable hammers capable of striking a man +down dead at one blow; his whole aspect was repulsive and +terrible—there was no redeeming point about him—for even the apparent +fortitude he assumed was mere bravado—meretricious courage—which the +first week of the galleys would crush out of him as easily as one +crushes the juice out of a ripe grape. He wore a nondescript costume of +vari-colored linen, arranged in folds that would have been the +admiration of an artist. It was gathered about him by means of a +brilliant scarlet sash negligently tied. His brawny arms were bare to +the shoulder—his vest was open, and displayed his strong brown throat +and chest heaving with the pent-up anger and fear that raged within +him. His dark grim figure was set off by a curious effect of color in +the sky—a long wide band of crimson cloud, as though the sun-god had +thrown down a goblet of ruby wine and left it to trickle along the +smooth blue fairness of his palace floor—a deep after-glow, which +burned redly on the olive-tinted eager faces of the multitude that were +everywhere upturned in wonder and ill-judged admiration to the brutal +black face of the notorious murderer and thief, whose name had for +years been the terror of Sicily. I pressed through the crowd to obtain +a nearer view, and as I did so a sudden savage movement of Neri's bound +body caused the gendarmes to cross their swords in front of his eyes +with a warning clash. The brigand laughed hoarsely. +</P> + +<P> +"Corpo di Cristo!" he muttered—"think you a man tied hand and foot can +run like a deer? I am trapped—I know it! But tell HIM," and he +indicated some person in the throng by a nod of his head "tell him to +come hither—I have a message for him." +</P> + +<P> +The gendarmes looked at one another, and then at the swaying crowd +about them in perplexity—they did not understand. +</P> + +<P> +Carmelo, without wasting more words upon them, raised himself as +uprightly as he could in his strained and bound position, and called +aloud: +</P> + +<P> +"Luigi Biscardi! Capitano! Oh he—you thought I could not see you! Dio! +I should know you in hell! Come near, I have a parting word for you." +</P> + +<P> +At the sound of his strong harsh voice, a silence half of terror, half +of awe, fell upon the chattering multitude. There was a sudden stir as +the people made way for a young man to pass through their ranks—a +slight, tall, rather handsome fellow, with a pale face and cold, +sneering eyes. He was dressed with fastidious care and neatness in the +uniform of the Bersagliere—and he elbowed his way along with the easy +audacity of a privileged dandy. He came close up to the brigand and +spoke carelessly, with a slightly mocking smile playing round the +corners of his mouth. +</P> + +<P> +"Ebbene!" he said, "you are caught at last, Carmelo! You called +me—here I am. What do you want with me, rascal?" +</P> + +<P> +Neri uttered a ferocious curse between his teeth, and looked for an +instant like a wild beast ready to spring. +</P> + +<P> +"You betrayed me," he said in fierce yet smothered accents—"you +followed me—you hunted me down! Teresa told me all. Yes—she belongs +to you now—you have got your wish. Go and take her—she waits for +you—make her speak and tell you how she loves you—IF YOU CAN!" +</P> + +<P> +Something jeering and withal threatening in the ruffian's look, +evidently startled the young officer, for he exclaimed hastily: +</P> + +<P> +"What do you mean, wretch? You have not—my God! you have not KILLED +her?" +</P> + +<P> +Carmelo broke into a loud savage laugh. +</P> + +<P> +"She has killed herself!" he cried, exultingly. "Ha, ha, I thought you +would wince at that! She snatched my knife and stabbed herself with it! +Yes—rather than see your lying white face again—rather than feel your +accursed touch! Find her—she lies dead and smiling up there in the +mountains and her last kiss was for ME—for ME—you understand! Now go! +and may the devil curse you!" +</P> + +<P> +Again the gendarmes clashed their swords suggestively—and the brigand +resumed his sullen attitude of suppressed wrath and feigned +indifference. But the man to whom he had spoken staggered and seemed +about to fall—his pale face grew paler—he moved away through the +curious open-eyed by-standers with the mechanical air of one who knows +not whether he be alive or dead. He had evidently received an +unexpected shock—a wound that pierced deeply and would be a long time +healing. +</P> + +<P> +I approached the nearest gendarme and slipped a five-franc piece into +his hand. +</P> + +<P> +"May one speak?" I asked, carelessly. The man hesitated. +</P> + +<P> +"For one instant, signor. But be brief." +</P> + +<P> +I addressed the brigand in a low clear-tone. +</P> + +<P> +"Have you any message for one Andrea Luziani? I am a friend of his." +</P> + +<P> +He looked at me and a dark smile crossed his features. +</P> + +<P> +"Andrea is a good soul. Tell him if you will that Teresa is dead. I am +worse than dead. He will know that I did not kill Teresa. I could not! +She had the knife in her breast before I could prevent her. It is +better so." +</P> + +<P> +"She did that rather than become the property of another man?" I +queried. +</P> + +<P> +Carmelo Neri nodded in acquiescence. Either my sight deceived me, or +else this abandoned villain had tears glittering in the depth of his +wicked eyes. +</P> + +<P> +The gendarme made me a sign, and I withdrew. Almost at the same moment +the officer in command of the little detachment appeared, his spurs +clinking with measured metallic music on the hard stones of the +pavement—he sprung into his saddle and gave the word—the crowd +dispersed to the right and left—the horses were put to a quick trot, +and in a few moments the whole party with the bulky frowning form of +the brigand in their midst had disappeared. The people broke up into +little groups talking excitedly of what had occurred, and scattered +here and there, returning to their homes and occupations—and more +swiftly than one could have imagined possible, the great square was +left almost empty. I paced up and down for awhile thinking deeply; I +had before my mind's eye the picture of the slight fair Teresa as +described by the Sicilian captain, lying dead in the solitudes of the +Montemaggiore with that self-inflicted wound in her breast which had +set her free of all men's love and persecution. There WERE some women +then who preferred death to infidelity? Strange! very strange! common +women of course they must be—such as this brigand's mistress; your +daintily fed, silk-robed duchess would find a dagger somewhat a vulgar +consoler—she would rather choose a lover, or better still a score of +lovers. It is only brute ignorance that selects a grave instead of +dishonor—modern education instructs us more wisely, and teaches us not +to be over-squeamish about such a trifle as breaking a given word or +promise. Blessed age of progress! Age of steady advancement when the +apple of vice is so cunningly disguised and so prettily painted that we +can actually set it on a porcelain dish and hand it about among our +friends as a valuable and choice fruit of virtue—and no one finds out +the fraud we are practicing, nay, we scarcely perceive it ourselves, it +is such an excellent counterfeit! +</P> + +<P> +As I walked to and fro, I found myself continually passing the head +office of the Carabinieri, and, acting on a sudden impulse of +curiosity, I at last entered the building, determined to ask for a few +particulars concerning the brigand's capture. I was received by a +handsome and intelligent-looking man, who glanced at the card with +which I presented myself, and saluted me with courteous affability. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, yes!" he said, in answer to my inquiries, "Neri has given us a +great deal of trouble. But we had our suspicions that he had left +Gaeta, where he was for a time in hiding. A few stray bits of +information gleaned here and there put us on the right track." +</P> + +<P> +"Was he caught easily, or did he show fight?" +</P> + +<P> +"He gave himself up like a lamb, signor! It happened in this way. One +of our men followed the woman who lived with Neri, one Teresa, and +traced her up to a certain point, the corner of a narrow mountain +pass—where she disappeared. He reported this, and thereupon we sent +out an armed party. These crept at midnight two by two, till they were +formed in a close ring round the place where Neri was judged to be. +With the first beam of morning they rushed in upon him and took him +prisoner. It appears that he showed no surprise—he merely said, 'I +expected you!' He was found sitting by the dead body of his mistress; +she was stabbed and newly bleeding. No doubt he killed her, though he +swears the contrary—lies are as easy to him as breathing." +</P> + +<P> +"But where were his comrades? I thought he commanded a large band?" +</P> + +<P> +"So he did, signor; and we caught three of the principals only a +fortnight ago, but of the others no trace can be found. I suppose +Carmelo himself dismissed them and sent them far and wide through the +country. At any rate, they are disbanded, and with these sort of +fellows, where there is no union there is no danger." +</P> + +<P> +"And Neri's sentence?" I asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, the galleys for life of course; there is no possible alternative." +</P> + +<P> +I thanked my informant, and left the office. I was glad to have learned +these few particulars, for the treasure I had discovered in my own +family vault was now more mine than ever. There was not the remotest +chance of any one of the Neri band venturing so close to Naples in +search of it, and I thought with a grim smile that had the brigand +chief himself known the story of my wrongs, he would most probably have +rejoiced to think that his buried wealth was destined to aid me in +carrying out so elaborate a plan of vengeance. All difficulties +smoothed themselves before me—obstacles were taken out of my path—my +way was made perfectly clear—each trifling incident was a new +finger-post pointing out the direct road that led me to the one desired +end. God himself seemed on my side, as He is surely ever on the side of +justice! Let not the unfaithful think that because they say long +prayers or go regularly and devoutly to church with meek faces and +piously folded hands that the Eternal Wisdom is deceived thereby. My +wife could pray—she could kneel like a lovely saint in the dim +religious light of the sacred altars, her deep eyes upturned to the +blameless, infinitely reproachful Christ—and look you! each word she +uttered was a blasphemy, destined to come back upon herself as a curse. +Prayer is dangerous for liars—it is like falling willfully on an +upright naked sword. Used as an honorable weapon the sword +defends—snatched up as the last resource of a coward it kills. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap11"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XI. +</H3> + +<P> +The third week of September was drawing to its close when I returned to +Naples. The weather had grown cooler, and favorable reports of the +gradual decrease of the cholera began to gain ground with the suffering +and terrified population. Business was resumed as usual, pleasure had +again her votaries, and society whirled round once more in its giddy +waltz as though it had never left off dancing. I arrived in the city +somewhat early in the day, and had time to make some preliminary +arrangements for my plan of action. I secured the most splendid suite +of apartments in the best hotel, impressing the whole establishment +with a vast idea of my wealth and importance. I casually mentioned to +the landlord that I desired to purchase a carriage and horses—that I +needed a first-class valet, and a few other trifles of the like sort, +and added that I relied on his good advice and recommendation as to the +places where I should best obtain all that I sought. Needless to say, +he became my slave—never was monarch better served than I—the very +waiters hustled each other in a race to attend upon me, and reports of +my princely fortune, generosity, and lavish expenditure, began to flit +from mouth to month—which was the result I desired to obtain. +</P> + +<P> +And now the evening of my first day in Naples came, and I, the supposed +Conte Cesare Oliva, the envied and flattered noble, took the first step +toward my vengeance. It was one of the loveliest evenings possible, +even in that lovely land—a soft breeze blew in from the sea—the sky +was pearl-like and pure as an opal, yet bright with delicate shifting +clouds of crimson and pale mauve—small, fleecy flecks of Radiance, +that looked like a shower of blossoms fallen from some far invisible +flower-land. The waters of the bay were slightly ruffled by the wind, +and curled into tender little dark-blue waves tipped with light forges +of foam. After my dinner I went out and took my way to a well-known and +popular cafe which used to be a favorite haunt of mine in the days when +I was known as Fabio Romani, Guido Ferrari was a constant habitue of +the place, and I felt that I should find him there. The brilliant +rose-white and gold saloons were crowded, and owing to the pleasant +coolness of the air there were hundreds of little tables pushed far out +into the street, at which groups of persons were seated, enjoying ices, +wine, or coffee, and congratulating each other on the agreeable news of +the steady decrease of the pestilence that had ravaged the city. I +glanced covertly yet quickly round. Yes! I was not mistaken—there was +my quondam friend, my traitorous foe, sitting at his ease, leaning +comfortably back in one chair, his feet put up on another. He was +smoking, and glancing now and then through the columns of the Paris +"Figaro." He was dressed entirely in black—a hypocritical livery, the +somber hue of which suited his fine complexion and perfectly handsome +features to admiration. On the little finger of the shapely hand that +every now and then was raised to adjust his cigar, sparkled a diamond +that gave out a myriad scintillations as it flashed in the evening +light—it was of exceptional size and brilliancy, and even at a +distance I recognized it as my own property! +</P> + +<P> +So!—a love-gift, signor, or an in memoriam of the dear and valued +friend you have lost? I wondered—watching him in dark scorn the +while—then recollecting myself, I sauntered slowly toward him, and +perceiving a disengaged table next to his, I drew a chair to it and sat +down He looked at me in differently over the top of his newspaper—but +there was nothing specially attractive in the sight of a white-haired +man wearing smoke-colored spectacles, and he resumed his perusal of the +"Figaro" immediately. I rapped the end of my walking-cane on the table +and summoned a waiter from whom I ordered coffee. I then lighted a +cigar, and imitating Ferrari's easy posture, smoked also. Something in +my attitude then appeared to strike him, for he laid down his paper and +again looked at me, this time with more interest and something of +uneasiness. "Ca commence, mon ami!" I thought, but I turned my head +slightly aside and feigned to be absorbed in the view. My coffee was +brought—I paid for it and tossed the waiter an unusually large +gratuity—he naturally found it incumbent upon him to polish my table +with extra zeal, and to secure all the newspapers, pictorial or +otherwise, that were lying about, for the purpose of obsequiously +depositing them in a heap at my right hand. I addressed this amiable +garcon in the harsh and deliberate accents of my carefully disguised +voice. +</P> + +<P> +"By the way, I suppose you know Naples well?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, si, signor!" +</P> + +<P> +"Ebbene, can you tell me the way to the house of one Count Fabio +Romani, a wealthy nobleman of this city?" +</P> + +<P> +Ha! a good hit this time! Though apparently not looking at him I saw +Ferrari start as though he had been stung, and then compose himself in +his seat with an air of attention. The waiter meanwhile, in answer to +my question, raised his hands, eyes and shoulders all together with a +shrug expressive of resigned melancholy. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, gran Dio! e morto!" +</P> + +<P> +"Dead!" I exclaimed, with a pretended start of shocked surprise. "So +young? Impossible!" +</P> + +<P> +"Eh! what will you, signor? It was la pesta; there was no remedy. La +pesta cares nothing for youth or age, and spares neither rich nor poor." +</P> + +<P> +For a moment I leaned my head on my hand, affecting to be overcome by +the suddenness of the news. Then looking up, I said, regretfully: +</P> + +<P> +"Alas! I am too late! I was a friend of his father's. I have been away +for many years, and I had a great wish to meet the young Romani whom I +last saw as a child. Are there any relations of his living—was he +married?" +</P> + +<P> +The waiter, whose countenance had assumed a fitting lugubriousness in +accordance with what he imagined were my feelings, brightened up +immediately as he replied eagerly: +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, si, signor! The Contessa Romani lives up at the villa, though I +believe she receives no one since her husband's death. She is young and +beautiful as an angel. There is a little child too." +</P> + +<P> +A hasty movement on the part of Ferrari caused me to turn my eyes, or +rather my spectacles, in his direction. He leaned forward, and raising +his hat with the old courteous grace I knew so well, said politely: +</P> + +<P> +"Pardon me, signor, for interrupting you! I knew the late young Count +Romani well—perhaps better than any man in Naples. I shall be +delighted to afford you any information you may seek concerning him." +</P> + +<P> +Oh, the old mellow music of his voice—how it struck on my heart and +pierced it like the refrain of a familiar song loved in the days of our +youth. For an instant I could not speak—wrath and sorrow choked my +utterance. Fortunately this feeling was but momentary—slowly I raised +my hat in response to his salutation, and answered stiffly: +</P> + +<P> +"I am your servant, signor. You will oblige me indeed if you can place +me in communication with the relatives of this unfortunate young +nobleman. The elder Count Romani was dearer to me than a brother—men +have such attachments occasionally. Permit me to introduce myself," and +I handed him my visiting-card with a slight and formal bow. He accepted +it, and as he read the name it bore he gave me a quick glance of +respect mingled with pleased surprise. +</P> + +<P> +"The Conte Cesare Oliva!" he exclaimed. "I esteem myself most fortunate +to have met you! Your arrival has already been notified to us by the +avant-courier of the fashionable intelligence, so that we are well +aware," here laughing lightly, "of the distinctive right you have to a +hearty welcome in Naples. I am only sorry that any distressing news +should have darkened the occasion of your return here after so long an +absence. Permit me to express the hope that it may at least be the only +cloud for you on our southern sunshine!" +</P> + +<P> +And he extended his hand with that ready frankness and bonhomie which +are always a part of the Italian temperament, and were especially so of +his. A cold shudder ran through my veins. God! could I take his hand in +mine? I must—if I would act my part thoroughly—for should I refuse he +would think it strange—even rude—I should lose the game by one false +move. With a forced smile I hesitatingly held out my hand also—it was +gloved, yet as he clasped it heartily in his own the warm pressure +burned through the glove like fire. I could have cried out in agony, so +excruciating was the mental torture which I endured at that moment. But +it passed, the ordeal was over, and I knew that from henceforth I +should be able to shake hands with him as often and as indifferently as +with any other man. It was only this FIRST time that it galled me to +the quick. Ferrari noticed nothing of my emotion—he was in excellent +spirits, and turning to the waiter, who had lingered to watch us make +each other's acquaintance, he exclaimed: +</P> + +<P> +"More coffee, garcon, and a couple of glorias." Then looking toward me, +"You do not object to a gloria, conte? No? That is well. And here is MY +card," taking one from his pocket and laying it on the table. "Guido +Ferrari, at your service, an artist and a very poor one. We shall +celebrate our meeting by drinking each other's health!" +</P> + +<P> +I bowed. The waiter vanished to execute his orders and Ferrari drew his +chair closer to mine. +</P> + +<P> +"I see you smoke," he said, gayly. "Can I offer you one of my cigars? +They are unusually choice. Permit me," and he proffered roe a richly +embossed and emblazoned silver cigar-case, with the Romani arms and +coronet and MY OWN INITIALS engraved thereon. It was mine, of course—I +took it with a sensation of grim amusement—I had not seen it since the +day I died! +</P> + +<P> +"A fine antique," I remarked, carelessly, turning it over and over in +my hand, "curious and valuable. A gift or an heirloom?" +</P> + +<P> +"It belonged to my late friend, Count Fabio," he answered, puffing a +light cloud of smoke in the air as he drew his cigar from his lips to +speak. "It was found in his pocket by the priest who saw him die. That +and other trifles which he wore on his person were delivered to his +wife, and—" +</P> + +<P> +"She naturally gave YOU the cigar-case as a memento of your friend," I +said, interrupting him. +</P> + +<P> +"Just so. You have guessed it exactly. Thanks," and he took the case +from me as I returned it to him with a frank smile. +</P> + +<P> +"Is the Countess Romani young?" I forced myself to inquire. +</P> + +<P> +"Young and beautiful as a midsummer morning!" replied Ferrari, with +enthusiasm. "I doubt if sunlight ever fell on a more enchanting woman! +If you were a young man, conte, I should be silent regarding her +charms—but your white hairs inspire one with confidence. I assure you +solemnly, though Fabio was my friend, and an excellent fellow in his +ways, he was never worthy of the woman he married!" +</P> + +<P> +"Indeed!" I said, coldly, as this dagger-thrust struck home to my +heart. "I only knew him when he was quite a boy. He seemed to me then +of a warm and loving temperament, generous to a fault, perhaps +over-credulous, yet he promised well. His father thought so, I confess +I thought so too. Reports have reached me from time to time of the care +with which he managed the immense fortune left to him. He gave large +sums away in charity, did he not? and was he not a lover of books and +simple pleasures?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I grant you all that!" returned Ferrari, with some impatience. "He +was the most moral man in immoral Naples, if you care for that sort of +thing. Studious—philosophic—parfait gentilhomme—proud as the devil, +virtuous, unsuspecting, and—withal—a fool!" +</P> + +<P> +My temper rose dangerously—but I controlled it, and remembering my +part in the drama I had constructed, I broke into violent, harsh +laughter. +</P> + +<P> +"Bravo!" I exclaimed. "One can easily see what a first-rate young +fellow YOU are! You have no liking for moral men—ha, ha! excellent! I +agree with you. A virtuous man and a fool are synonyms nowadays. Yes—I +have lived long enough to know that! And here is our coffee—behold +also the glorias! I drink your health with pleasure, Signor +Ferrari—you and I must be friends!" +</P> + +<P> +For one moment he seemed startled by my sudden outburst of mirth—the +next, he laughed heartily himself, and as the waiter appeared with the +coffee and cognac, inspired by the occasion, he made an equivocal, +slightly indelicate joke concerning the personal charms of a certain +Antoinetta whom the garcon was supposed to favor with an eye to +matrimony. The fellow grinned, in nowise offended—and pocketing fresh +gratuities from both Ferrari and myself, departed on new errands for +other customers, apparently in high good humor with himself, +Antoinetta, and the world in general. Resuming the interrupted +conversation I said: +</P> + +<P> +"And this poor weak-minded Romani—was his death sudden?" +</P> + +<P> +"Remarkably so," answered Ferrari, leaning back in his chair, and +turning his handsome flushed face up to the sky where the stars were +beginning to twinkle out one by ones "it appears from all accounts that +he rose early and went out for a walk on one of those insufferably hot +August mornings, and at the furthest limit of the villa grounds he came +upon a fruit-seller dying of cholera. Of course, with his quixotic +ideas, he must needs stay and talk to the boy, and then run like a +madman through the heat into Naples, to find a doctor for him. Instead +of a physician he met a priest, and he was taking this priest to the +assistance of the fruit-seller (who by the bye died in the meantime and +was past all caring for) when he himself was struck down by the plague. +He was carried then and there to a common inn, where in about five +hours he died—all the time shrieking curses on any one who should dare +to take him alive or dead inside his own house. He showed good sense in +that at least—naturally he was anxious not to bring the contagion to +his wife and child." +</P> + +<P> +"Is the child a boy or a girl?" I asked, carelessly. +</P> + +<P> +"A girl. A mere baby—an uninteresting old-fashioned little thing, very +like her father." +</P> + +<P> +My poor little Stella. +</P> + +<P> +Every pulse of my being thrilled with indignation at the indifferently +chill way in which he, the man who had fondled her and pretended to +love her, now spoke of the child. She was, as far as he knew, +fatherless; he, no doubt, had good reason to suspect that her mother +cared little for her, and, I saw plainly that she was, or soon would +be, a slighted and friendless thing in the household. But I made no +remark—I sipped my cognac with an abstracted air for a few +seconds—then I asked: +</P> + +<P> +"How was the count buried? Your narrative interests me greatly." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, the priest who was with him saw to his burial, and I believe, was +able to administer the last sacraments. At any rate, he had him laid +with all proper respect in his family vault—I myself was present at +the funeral." +</P> + +<P> +I started involuntarily, but quickly repressed myself. +</P> + +<P> +"YOU were present—YOU—YOU—" and my voice almost failed me. +</P> + +<P> +Ferrari raised his eyebrows with a look of surprised inquiry. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course! You are astonished at that? But perhaps you do not +understand. I was the count's very closest friend, closer than a +brother, I may say. It was natural, even necessary, that I should +attend his body to its last resting place." +</P> + +<P> +By this time I had recovered myself. +</P> + +<P> +"I see—I see!" I muttered, hastily. "Pray excuse me—my age renders me +nervous of disease in any form, and I should have thought the fear of +contagion might have weighed with you." +</P> + +<P> +"With ME!" and he laughed lightly. "I was never ill in my life, and I +have no dread whatever of cholera. I suppose I ran some risk, though I +never thought about it at the time—but the priest—one of the +Benedictine order—died the very next day." +</P> + +<P> +"Shocking!" I murmured over my coffee-cup. "Very shocking. And you +actually entertained no alarm for yourself?" +</P> + +<P> +"None in the least. To tell you the truth, I am armed against +contagious illnesses, by a conviction I have that I am not doomed to +die of any disease. A prophecy"—and here a cloud crossed his +features—"an odd prophecy was made about me when I was born, which, +whether it comes true or not, prevents me from panic in days of plague." +</P> + +<P> +"Indeed!" I said, with interest, for this was news to me. "And may one +ask what this prophecy is?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, certainly. It is to the effect that I shall die a violent death by +the hand of a once familiar friend. It was always an absurd +statement—an old nurse's tale—but it is now more absurd than ever, +considering that the only friend of the kind I ever had or am likely to +have is dead and buried—namely, Fabio Romani." +</P> + +<P> +And he sighed slightly. I raised my head and looked at him steadily. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap12"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XII. +</H3> + +<P> +The sheltering darkness of the spectacles I wore prevented him from +noticing the searching scrutiny of my fixed gaze. His face was shadowed +by a faint tinge of melancholy; his eyes were thoughtful and almost sad. +</P> + +<P> +"You loved him well then in spite of his foolishness?" I said. +</P> + +<P> +He roused himself from the pensive mood into which he had fallen, and +smiled. +</P> + +<P> +"Loved him? No! Certainly not—nothing so strong as that! I liked him +fairly—he bought several pictures of me—a poor artist has always some +sort of regard for the man who buys his work. Yes, I liked him well +enough—till he married." +</P> + +<P> +"Ha! I suppose his wife came between you?" He flushed slightly, and +drank off the remainder of his cognac in haste. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," he replied, briefly, "she came between us. A man is never quite +the same after marriage. But we have been sitting a long time +here—shall we walk?" +</P> + +<P> +He was evidently anxious to change the subject I rose slowly as though +my joints were stiff with age, and drew out my watch, a finely jeweled +one, to see the time. It was past nine o'clock. +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps," I said, addressing him, "you will accompany me as far as my +hotel. I am compelled to retire early as a rule—I suffer much from a +chronic complaint of the eyes as you perceive," here touching my +spectacles, "and I cannot endure much artificial light. We can talk +further on our way. Will you give me a chance of seeing your pictures? +I shall esteem myself happy to be one of your patrons." +</P> + +<P> +"A thousand thanks!" he answered, gayly. "I will show you my poor +attempts with pleasure. Should you find anything among them to gratify +your taste, I shall of course be honored. But, thank Heaven! I am not +as greedy of patronage as I used to be—in fact I intended resigning +the profession altogether in about six months or so." +</P> + +<P> +"Indeed! Are you coming into a fortune?" I asked, carelessly. +</P> + +<P> +"Well—not exactly," he answered, lightly. "I am going to marry +one—that is almost the same thing, is it not?" +</P> + +<P> +"Precisely! I congratulate you!" I said, in a studiously indifferent +and slightly bored tone, though my heart pulsed fiercely with the +torrent of wrath pent up within it. I understood his meaning well. In +six months he proposed marrying my wife. Six months was the shortest +possible interval that could be observed, according to social +etiquette, between the death of one husband and the wedding of another, +and even that was so short as to be barely decent. Six months—yet in +that space of time much might happen—things undreamed of and +undesired—slow tortures carefully measured out, punishment sudden and +heavy! Wrapped in these sombre musings I walked beside him in profound +silence. The moon shone brilliantly; groups of girls danced on the +shore with their lovers, to the sound of a flute and mandoline—far off +across the bay the sound of sweet and plaintive singing floated from +some boat in the distance, to our ears—the evening breathed of beauty, +peace and love. But I—my fingers quivered with restrained longing to +be at the throat of the graceful liar who sauntered so easily and +confidently beside me. Ah! Heaven, if he only knew! If he could have +realized the truth, would his face have worn quite so careless a +smile—would his manner have been quite so free and dauntless? +Stealthily I glanced at him; he was humming a tune softly under his +breath, but feeling instinctively, I suppose, that my eyes were upon +him, he interrupted the melody and turned to me with the question: +</P> + +<P> +"You have traveled far and seen much, conte!" +</P> + +<P> +"I have." +</P> + +<P> +"And in what country have you found the most beautiful women!" +</P> + +<P> +"Pardon me, young sir," I answered, coldly, "the business of life has +separated me almost entirely from feminine society. I have devoted +myself exclusively to the amassing of wealth, understanding thoroughly +that gold is the key to all things, even to woman's love; if I desired +that latter commodity, which I do not. I fear that I scarcely know a +fair face from a plain one—I never was attracted by women, and now at +my age, with my settled habits, I am not likely to alter my opinion +concerning them—and I frankly confess those opinions are the reverse +of favorable." +</P> + +<P> +Ferrari laughed. "You remind me of Fabio!" he said. "He used to talk in +that strain before he was married—though he was young and had none of +the experiences which may have made you cynical, conte! But he altered +his ideas very rapidly—and no wonder!" +</P> + +<P> +"Is his wife so very lovely then?" I asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Very! Delicately, daintily beautiful. But no doubt you will see her +for yourself—as a friend of her late husband's father, you will call +upon her, will you not?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why should I?" I said, gruffly—"I have no wish to meet her! Besides, +an inconsolable widow seldom cares to receive visitors—I shall not +intrude upon her sorrows!" +</P> + +<P> +Never was there a better move than this show of utter indifference I +affected. The less I appeared to care about seeing the Countess Romani, +the more anxious Ferrari was to introduce me—(introduce me!—to my +wife!)—and he set to work preparing his own doom with assiduous ardor. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, but you must see her!" he exclaimed, eagerly. "She will receive +you, I am sure, as a special guest. Your age and your former +acquaintance with her late husband's family will win from her the +utmost courtesy, believe me! Besides, she is not really inconsolable—" +He paused suddenly. We had arrived at the entrance of my hotel. I +looked at him steadily. +</P> + +<P> +"Not really inconsolable?" I repeated, in a tone of inquiry ferrari +broke into a forced laugh, +</P> + +<P> +"Why no!" he said, "What would you? She is young and +light-hearted—perfectly lovely and in the fullness of youth and +health. One cannot expect her to weep long, especially for a man she +did not care for." +</P> + +<P> +I ascended the hotel steps. "Pray come in!" I said, with an inviting +movement of my hand. "You must take a glass of wine before you leave. +And so—she did not care for him, you say?" +</P> + +<P> +Encouraged by my friendly invitation and manner, Ferrari became more at +this ease than ever, and hooking his arm through mine as we crossed the +broad passage of the hotel together, he replied in a confidential tone: +</P> + +<P> +"My dear conte, how CAN a woman love a man who is forced upon her by +her father for the sake of the money he gives her? As I told you +before, my late friend was utterly insensible to the beauty of his +wife—he was cold as a stone, and preferred his books. Then naturally +she had no love for him!" +</P> + +<P> +By this time we had reached my apartments, and as I threw open the +door, I saw that Ferrari was taking in with a critical eye the costly +fittings and luxurious furniture. In answer to this last remark, I said +with a chilly smile: +</P> + +<P> +"And as <I>I</I> told YOU before, my dear Signor Ferarri, I know nothing +whatever about women, and care less than nothing for their loves or +hatreds! I have always thought of them more or less as playful kittens, +who purr when they are stroked the right way, and scream and scratch +when their tails are trodden on. Try this Montepulciano!" +</P> + +<P> +He accepted the glass I proffered him, and tasted the wine with the air +of a connoisseur. +</P> + +<P> +"Exquisite!" he murmured, sipping it lazily. "You are lodged en prince +here, conte! I envy you!" +</P> + +<P> +"You need not," I answered. "You have youth and health, and—as you +have hinted to me—love; all these things are better than wealth, so +people say. At any rate, youth and health are good things—love I have +no belief in. As for me, I am a mere luxurious animal, loving comfort +and ease beyond anything. I have had many trials—I now take my rest in +my own fashion." +</P> + +<P> +"A very excellent and sensible fashion!" smiled Ferrari, leaning his +head easily back on the satin cushions of the easy-chair into which he +had thrown himself. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you know, conte, now I look at you well, I think you must have been +very handsome when you were young! You have a superb figure.'" +</P> + +<P> +I bowed stiffly. "You flatter me, signor! I believe I never was +specially hideous—but looks in a man always rank second to strength, +and of strength I have plenty yet remaining." +</P> + +<P> +"I do not doubt it," he returned, still regarding me attentively with +an expression in which there was the faintest shadow of uneasiness. +</P> + +<P> +"It is an odd coincidence, you will say, but I find a most +extraordinary resemblance in the height and carriage of your figure to +that of my late friend Romani." +</P> + +<P> +I poured some wine out for myself with a steady hand, and drank it. +</P> + +<P> +"Really?" I answered. "I am glad that I remind you of him—if the +reminder is agreeable! But all tall men are much alike so far as figure +goes, providing they are well made." +</P> + +<P> +Ferrari's brow was contracted in a musing frown and he answered not. He +still looked at me, and I returned his look without embarrassment. +Finally he roused himself, smiled, and finished drinking his glass of +Montepulciano. Then he rose to go. +</P> + +<P> +"You will permit me to mention your name to the Countess Romani, I +hope?" he said, cordially. "I am certain she will receive you, should +you desire it." +</P> + +<P> +I feigned a sort of vexation, and made an abrupt movement of impatience. +</P> + +<P> +"The fact is," I said, at last, "I very much dislike talking to women. +They are always illogical, and their frivolity wearies me. But you have +been so friendly that I will give you a message for the countess—if +you have no objection to deliver it. I should be sorry to trouble you +unnecessarily—and you perhaps will not have an opportunity of seeing +her for some days?" +</P> + +<P> +He colored slightly and moved uneasily. Then with a kind of effort, he +replied: +</P> + +<P> +"On the contrary, I am going to see her this very evening. I assure you +it will be a pleasure to me to convey to her any greeting you may +desire to send." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, it is no greeting," I continued, calmly, noting the various signs +of embarrassment in his manner with a careful eye. "It is a mere +message, which, however, may enable you to understand why I was anxious +to see the young man who is dead. In my very early manhood the elder +Count Romani did me an inestimable service. I never forgot his +kindness—my memory is extraordinarily tenacious of both benefits and +injuries—and I have always desired to repay it in some suitable +manner. I have with me a few jewels of almost priceless value—I have +myself collected them, and I reserved them as a present to the son of +my old friend, simply as a trifling souvenir or expression of gratitude +for past favors received from his family. His sudden death has deprived +me of the pleasure of fulfilling this intention—but as the jewels are +quite useless to me, I am perfectly willing to hand them over to the +Countess Romani, should she care to have them. They would have been +hers had her husband lived—they should be hers now. If you, signor, +will report these facts to her and learn her wishes with respect to the +matter, I shall be much indebted to you." +</P> + +<P> +"I shall be delighted to obey you," replied Ferrari, courteously, +rising at the same time to take his leave. "I am proud to be the bearer +of so pleasing an errand. Beautiful women love jewels, and who shall +blame them? Bright eyes and diamonds go well together! A rivederci, +Signer Conte! I trust we shall meet often." +</P> + +<P> +"I have no doubt we shall," I answered, quietly. +</P> + +<P> +He shook hands cordially—I responded to his farewell salutations with +the brief coldness which was now my habitual manner, and we parted. +From the window of my saloon I could see him sauntering easily down the +hotel steps and from thence along the street. How I cursed him as he +stepped jauntily on—how I hated his debonair grace and easy manner! I +watched the even poise of his handsome head and shoulders, I noted the +assured tread, the air of conscious vanity—the whole demeanor of the +man bespoke his perfect self-satisfaction and his absolute confidence +in the brightness of the future that awaited him when that stipulated +six months of pretended mourning for my untimely death should have +expired. Once, as he walked on his way, he turned and paused—looking +back—he raised his hat to enjoy the coolness of the breeze on his +forehead and hair. The light of the moon fell full on his features and +showed them in profile, like a finely-cut cameo against the dense +dark-blue background of the evening sky. I gazed at him with a sort of +grim fascination—the fascination of a hunter for the stag when it +stands at bay, just before he draws his knife across its throat. He was +in my power—he had deliberately thrown himself in the trap I had set +for him. He lay at the mercy of one in whom there was no mercy. He had +said and done nothing to deter me from my settled plans. Had he shown +the least tenderness of recollection for me as Fabio Romani, his friend +and benefactor—had he hallowed my memory by one generous word—had he +expressed one regret for my loss—I might have hesitated, I might have +somewhat changed my course of action so that punishment should have +fallen more lightly on him than on her. For I knew well enough that +she, my wife, was the worst sinner of the two. Had SHE chosen to +respect herself, not all the forbidden love in the world could have +touched her honor. Therefore, the least sign of compunction or +affection from Ferrari for me, his supposed dead friend, would have +turned the scale in his favor, and in spite of his treachery, +remembering how SHE must have encouraged him, I would at least have +spared him torture. But no sign had been given, no word had been +spoken, there was no need for hesitation or pity, and I was glad of it! +All this I thought as I watched him standing bareheaded in the +moonlight, on his way to—whom? To my wife, of course. I knew that well +enough. He was going to console her widow's tears—to soothe her aching +heart—a good Samaritan in very earnest! He moved, he passed slowly out +of my sight. I waited till I had seen the last glimpse of his +retreating figure, and then I left the window satisfied with my day's +work. Vengeance had begun. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap13"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIII. +</H3> + +<P> +Quite early in the next day Ferrari called to see me. I was at +breakfast—he apologized for disturbing me at the meal. +</P> + +<P> +"But," he explained, frankly, "the Countess Romani laid such urgent +commands upon me that I was compelled to obey. We men are the slaves of +women!" +</P> + +<P> +"Not always," I said, dryly, as I motioned him to take a seat—"there +are exceptions—myself for instance. Will you have some coffee?" +</P> + +<P> +"Thanks, I have already breakfasted. Pray do not let me be in your way, +my errand is soon done. The countess wishes me to say—" +</P> + +<P> +"You saw her last night?" I interrupted him. +</P> + +<P> +He flushed slightly. "Yes—that is—for a few minutes only. I gave her +your message. She thanks you, and desires me to tell you that she +cannot think of receiving the jewels unless you will first honor her by +a visit. She is not at home to ordinary callers in consequence of her +recent bereavement—but to you, so old a friend of her husband's +family, a hearty welcome will be accorded." +</P> + +<P> +I bowed stiffly. "I am extremely flattered!" I said, in a somewhat +sarcastical tone, "it is seldom I receive so tempting an invitation! I +regret that I cannot accept it—at least, not at present. Make my +compliments to the lady, and tell her so in whatever sugared form of +words you may think best fitted to please her ears." +</P> + +<P> +He looked surprised and puzzled. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you really mean," he said, with a tinge of hauteur in his accents, +"that you will not visit her—that you refuse her request?" +</P> + +<P> +I smiled. "I really mean, my dear Signor Ferrari, that, being always +accustomed to have my own way, I can make no exception in favor of +ladies, however fascinating they may be. I have business in Naples—it +claims my first and best attention. When it is transacted I may +possibly try a few frivolities for a change—at present I am unfit for +the society of the fair sex—an old battered traveler as you see, +brusque, and unaccustomed to polite lying. But I promise you I will +practice suave manners and a court bow for the countess when I can +spare time to call upon her. In the meanwhile I trust to you to make +her a suitable and graceful apology for my non-appearance." +</P> + +<P> +Ferrari's puzzled and vexed expression gave way to a smile—finally he +laughed aloud. "Upon my word!" he exclaimed, gayly, "you are really a +remarkable man, conte! You are extremely cynical! I am almost inclined +to believe that you positively hate women." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, by no means! Nothing so strong as hatred," I said, coolly, as I +peeled and divided a fine peach as a finish to my morning's meal. +"Hatred is a strong passion—to hate well one must first have loved. +No, no—I do not find women worth hating—I am simply indifferent to +them. They seem to me merely one of the burdens imposed on man's +existence—graceful, neatly packed, light burdens in appearance, but in +truth, terribly heavy and soul-crushing." +</P> + +<P> +"Yet many accept such burdens gayly!" interrupted Ferrari, with a +smile. I glanced at him keenly. +</P> + +<P> +"Men seldom attain the mastery over their own passions," I replied; +"they are in haste to seize every apparent pleasure that comes in their +way, Led by a hot animal impulse which they call love, they snatch at a +woman's beauty as a greedy school-boy snatches ripe fruit—and when +possessed, what is it worth? Here is its emblem"—and I held up the +stone of the peach I had just eaten—"the fruit is devoured—what +remains? A stone with a bitter kernel." +</P> + +<P> +Ferrari shrugged his shoulders. +</P> + +<P> +"I cannot agree with you, count," he said; "but I will not argue with +you. From your point of view you may be right—but when one is young, +and life stretches before you like a fair pleasure-ground, love and the +smile of woman are like sunlight falling on flowers! You too must have +felt this—in spite of what you say, there must have been a time in +your life when you also loved!" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I have had my fancies, of course!" I answered, with an indifferent +laugh. "The woman I fancied turned out to be a saint—I was not worthy +of her—at least, so I was told. At any rate, I was so convinced of her +virtue and my own unworthiness—that—I left her." +</P> + +<P> +He looked surprised. "An odd reason, surely, for resigning her, was it +not?" +</P> + +<P> +"Very odd—very unusual—but a sufficient one for me. Pray let us talk +of something more interesting—your pictures, for instance. When may I +see them?" +</P> + +<P> +"When you please," he answered, readily—"though I fear they are +scarcely worth a visit. I have not worked much lately. I really doubt +whether I have any that will merit your notice." +</P> + +<P> +"You underrate your powers, signor," I said with formal politeness. +"Allow me to call at your studio this afternoon. I have a few minutes +to spare between three and four o'clock, if that time will suit you." +</P> + +<P> +"It will suit me admirably," he said, with a look of gratification; +"but I fear you will be disappointed. I assure you I am no artist." +</P> + +<P> +I smiled. I knew that well enough. But I made no reply to his remark—I +said, "Regarding the matter of the jewels for the Countess +Romani—would you care to see them?" +</P> + +<P> +"I should indeed," he answered; "they are unique specimens, I think?" +</P> + +<P> +"I believe so," I answered, and going to an escritoire in the corner of +the room, I unlocked it and took out a massive carved oaken jewel-chest +of square shape, which I had had made in Palermo. It contained a +necklace of large rubies and diamonds, with bracelets to match, and +pins of their hair—also a sapphire ring—a cross of fine +rose-brilliants, and the pearl pendant I had first found in the vault. +All the gems, with the exception of this pendant, had been reset by a +skillful jeweler in Palermo, who had acted under my +superintendence—and Ferrari uttered an exclamation of astonishment and +admiration as he lifted the glittering toys out one by one and noted +the size and brilliancy of the precious stones. +</P> + +<P> +"They are trifles," I said, carelessly—"but they may please a woman's +taste—and they amount to a certain fixed value. You would do me a +great service if you consented to take them to the Contessa Romani for +me—tell her to accept them as heralds of my forthcoming visit. I am +sure you will know how to persuade her to take what would +unquestionably have been hers had her husband lived. They are really +her property—she must not refuse to receive what is her own." +</P> + +<P> +Ferrari hesitated and looked at me earnestly. +</P> + +<P> +"You—WILL visit her—she may rely on your coming for a certainty, I +hope?" +</P> + +<P> +I smiled. "You seem very anxious about it. May I ask why?" +</P> + +<P> +"I think," he replied at once, "that it would embarrass the countess +very much if you gave her no opportunity to thank you for so munificent +and splendid a gift—and unless she knew she could do so, I am certain +she would not accept it." +</P> + +<P> +"Make yourself quite easy," I answered. "She shall thank me to her +heart's content. I give you my word that within a few days I will call +upon the lady—in fact you said you would introduce me—I accept your +offer!" +</P> + +<P> +He seemed delighted, and seizing my hand, shook it cordially. +</P> + +<P> +"Then in that case I will gladly take the jewels to her," he exclaimed. +"And I may say, count, that had you searched the whole world over, you +could not have found one whose beauty was more fitted to show them off +to advantage. I assure you her loveliness is of a most exquisite +character!" +</P> + +<P> +"No doubt!" I said, dryly. "I take your word for it. I am no judge of a +fair face or form. And now, my good friend, do not think me churlish if +I request you leave me in solitude for the present. Between three and +four o'clock I shall be at your studio." +</P> + +<P> +He rose at once to take his leave. I placed the oaken box of jewels in +the leathern case which had been made to contain it, strapped and +locked it, and handed it to him together with its key. He was profuse +in his compliments and thanks—almost obsequious, in truth—and I +discovered another defect in his character—a defect which, as his +friend in former days, I had guessed nothing of. I saw that very little +encouragement would make him a toady—a fawning servitor on the +wealthy—and in our old time of friendship I had believed him to be far +above all such meanness, but rather of a manly, independent nature that +scorned hypocrisy. Thus we are deluded even by our nearest and +dearest—and is it well or ill for us, I wonder, when we are at last +undeceived? Is not the destruction of illusion worse than illusion +itself? I thought so, as my quondam friend clasped my hand in farewell +that morning. What would I not have given to believe in him as I once +did! I held open the door of my room as he passed out, carrying the box +of jewels for my wife, and as I bade him a brief adieu, the well-worn +story of Tristram and Kind Mark came to my mind. He, Guido, like +Tristram, would in a short space clasp the gemmed necklace round the +throat of one as fair and false as the fabled Iseulte, and I—should I +figure as the wronged king? How does the English laureate put it in his +idyl on the subject? +</P> + +<P> +"'Mark's way,' said Mark, and clove him through the brain." +</P> + +<P> +Too sudden and sweet a death by far for such a traitor! The Cornish +king should have known how to torture his betrayer! I knew—and I +meditated deeply on every point of my design, as I sat alone for an +hour after Ferrari had left me. I had many things to do—I had resolved +on making myself a personage of importance in Naples, and I wrote +several letters and sent out visiting-cards to certain well-established +families of distinction as necessary preliminaries to the result I had +in view. That day, too, I engaged a valet—a silent and discreet Tuscan +named Vincenzo Flamma. He was an admirably trained servant—he never +asked questions—was too dignified to gossip, and rendered me instant +and implicit obedience—in fact he was a gentleman in his way, with far +better manners than many who lay claim to that title. He entered upon +his duties at once, and never did I know him to neglect the most +trifling thing that could add to my satisfaction or comfort. In making +arrangements with him, and in attending to various little matters of +business, the hours slipped rapidly away, and in the afternoon, at the +time appointed, I made my way to Ferrari's studio. I knew it of old—I +had no need to consult the card he had left with me on which the +address was written. It was a queer, quaintly built little place, +situated at the top of an ascending road—its windows commanded an +extensive view of the bay and the surrounding scenery. Many and many a +happy hour had I passed there before my marriage reading some favorite +book or watching Ferrari as he painted his crude landscapes and +figures, most of which I good-naturedly purchased as soon as completed. +The little porch over-grown with star-jasmine looked strangely and +sorrowfully familiar to my eyes, and my heart experienced a sickening +pang of regret for the past, as I pulled the bell and heard the little +tinkling sound to which I was so well accustomed. Ferrari himself +opened the door to me with eager rapidity—he looked excited and +radiant. +</P> + +<P> +"Come in, come in!" he cried with effusive cordiality. "You will find +everything in confusion, but pray excuse it. It is some time since I +had any visitors. Mind the steps, conte!—the place is rather dark just +here—every one stumbles at this particular corner." +</P> + +<P> +So talking, and laughing as he talked, he escorted me up the short +narrow flight of stairs to the light airy room where he usually worked. +Glancing round it, I saw at once the evidences of neglect and +disorder—he had certainly not been there for many days, though he had +made an attempt to arrange it tastefully for my reception. On the table +stood a large vase of flowers grouped with artistic elegance—I felt +instinctively that my wife had put them there. I noticed that Ferrari +had begun nothing new—all the finished and unfinished studies I saw I +recognized directly. I seated myself in an easy-chair and looked at my +betrayer with a calmly critical eye. He was what the English would call +"got up for effect." Though in black, he had donned a velvet coat +instead of the cloth one he had worn in the morning—he had a single +white japonica in his buttonhole—his face was pale and his eyes +unusually brilliant. He looked his best—I admitted it, and could +readily understand how an idle, pleasure-seeking feminine animal might +be easily attracted by the purely physical beauty of his form and +features. I spoke a part of my thoughts aloud. +</P> + +<P> +"You are not only an artist by profession, Signer Ferrari—you are one +also in appearance." +</P> + +<P> +He flushed slightly and smiled. +</P> + +<P> +"You are very amiable to say so," he replied, his pleased vanity +displaying itself at once in the expression of his face. "But I am well +aware that you flatter me. By the way, before I forget it, I must tell +you that I fulfilled your commission." +</P> + +<P> +"To the Countess Romani?" +</P> + +<P> +"Exactly. I cannot describe to you her astonishment and delight at the +splendor and brilliancy of those jewels you sent her. It was really +pretty to watch her innocent satisfaction." +</P> + +<P> +I laughed. +</P> + +<P> +"Marguerite and the jewel song in 'Faust,' I suppose, with new scenery +and effects?" I asked, with a slight sneer. He bit his lip and looked +annoyed. But he answered, quietly: +</P> + +<P> +"I see you must have your joke, conte; but remember that if you place +the countess in the position of Marguerite, you, as the giver of the +jewels, naturally play the part of Mephistopheles." +</P> + +<P> +"And you will be Faust, of course!" I said, gayly. "Why, we might mount +the opera with a few supernumeraries and astonish Naples by our +performance! What say you? But let us come to business. I like the +picture you have on the easel there—may I see it more closely?" +</P> + +<P> +He drew it nearer; it was a showy landscape with the light of the +sunset upon it. It was badly done, but I praised it warmly, and +purchased it for five hundred francs. Four other sketches of a similar +nature were then produced. I bought these also. By the time we got +through these matters, Ferrari was in the best of humors. He offered me +some excellent wine and partook of it himself; he talked incessantly, +and diverted me extremely, though my inward amusement was not caused by +the witty brilliancy of his conversation. No, I was only excited to a +sense of savage humor by the novelty of the position in which we two +men stood. Therefore I listened to him attentively, applauded his +anecdotes—all of which I had heard before—admired his jokes, and +fooled his egotistical soul till he had no shred of self-respect +remaining. He laid his nature bare before me—and I knew what it was at +last—a mixture of selfishness, avarice, sensuality, and heartlessness, +tempered now and then by a flash of good-nature and sympathetic +attraction which were the mere outcomes of youth and physical +health—no more. This was the man I had loved—this fellow who told +coarse stories only worthy of a common pot-house, and who reveled in a +wit of a high and questionable flavor; this conceited, empty-headed, +muscular piece of humanity was the same being for whom I had cherished +so chivalrous and loyal a tenderness! Our conversation was broken in +upon at last by the sound of approaching wheels. A carriage was heard +ascending the road—it came nearer—it stopped at the door. I set down +the glass of wine I had just raised to my lips, and looked at Ferrari +steadily. +</P> + +<P> +"You expect other visitors?" I inquired. +</P> + +<P> +He seemed embarrassed, smiled, and hesitated. +</P> + +<P> +"Well—I am not sure—but—" The bell rang. With a word of apology +Ferrari hurried away to answer it. I sprung from my chair—I knew—I +felt who was coming. I steadied my nerves by a strong effort. I +controlled the rapid beating of my heart; and fixing my dark glasses +more closely over my eyes, I drew myself up erect and waited calmly. I +heard Ferrari ascending the stairs—a light step accompanied his +heavier footfall—he spoke to his companion in whispers. Another +instant—and he flung the door of the studio wide open with the haste +and reverence due for the entrance of a queen. There was a soft rustle +of silk—a delicate breath of perfume on the air—and then—I stood +face to face with my wife! +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap14"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIV. +</H3> + +<P> +How dazzlingly lovely she was! I gazed at her with the same bewildered +fascination that had stupefied my reason and judgment when I beheld her +for the first time. The black robes she wore, the long crape veil +thrown back from her clustering hair and mignonne face, all the somber +shadows of her mourning garb only served to heighten and display her +beauty to greater advantage. A fair widow truly! I, her lately deceased +husband, freely admitted the magnetic power of her charms! She paused +for an instant on the threshold, a winning smile on her lips; she +looked at me, hesitated, and finally spoke in courteous accents: +</P> + +<P> +"I think I cannot be mistaken! Do I address the noble Conte Cesare +Oliva?" +</P> + +<P> +I tried to speak, but could not. My mouth was dry and parched with +excitement, my throat swelled and ached with the pent-up wrath and +despair of my emotions. I answered her question silently by a formal +bow. She at once advanced, extending both her hands with the coaxing +grace of manner I had so often admired. +</P> + +<P> +"I am the Countess Romani," she said, still smiling. "I heard from +Signor Ferrari that you purposed visiting his studio this afternoon, +and I could not resist the temptation of coming to express my personal +acknowledgments for the almost regal gift you sent me. The jewels are +really magnificent. Permit me to offer you my sincere thanks!" +</P> + +<P> +I caught her outstretched hands and wrung them hard—so hard that the +rings she wore must have dug into her flesh and hurt her, though she +was too well-bred to utter any exclamation. I had fully recovered +myself, and was prepared to act out my part. +</P> + +<P> +"On the contrary, madame," I said in a strong harsh voice, "the thanks +must come entirely from me for the honor you have conferred upon me by +accepting trifles so insignificant—especially at a time when the cold +brilliancy of mere diamonds must jar upon the sensitive feelings of +your recent widowhood. Believe me, I sympathize deeply with your +bereavement. Had your husband lived, the jewels would have been his +gift to you, and how much more acceptable they would then have appeared +in your eyes! I am proud to think you have condescended so far as to +receive them from so unworthy a hand as mine." +</P> + +<P> +As I spoke her face paled—she seemed startled, and regarded me +earnestly. Sheltered behind my smoked spectacles, I met the gaze of her +large dark eyes without embarrassment. Slowly she withdrew her slight +fingers from my clasp. I placed an easy chair for her, she sunk softly +into it with her old air of indolent ease, the ease of a spoiled +empress or sultan's favorite, while she still continued to look up at +me thoughtfully Ferrari, meanwhile, busied himself in bringing out more +wine, he also produced a dish of fruit and some sweet cakes, and while +occupied in these duties as our host he began to laugh. +</P> + +<P> +"Ha, ha! you are caught!" he exclaimed to me gayly. "You must know we +planned this together, madame and I, just to take you by surprise. +There was no knowing when you would be persuaded to visit the contessa, +and she could not rest till she had thanked you, so we arranged this +meeting. Could anything be better? Come, conte, confess that you are +charmed!" +</P> + +<P> +"Of course I am!" I answered with a slight touch of satire in my tone. +"Who would not be charmed in the presence of such youth and beauty! And +I am also flattered—for I know what exceptional favor the Contessa +Romani extends toward me in allowing me to make her acquaintance at a +time which must naturally be for her a secluded season of sorrow." +</P> + +<P> +At these words my wife's face suddenly assumed an expression of wistful +sadness and appealing gentleness. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, poor unfortunate Fabio," she sighed. "How terrible it seems that +he is not here to greet you! How gladly he would have welcomed any +friend of his father's—he adored his father, poor fellow! I cannot +realize that he is dead. It was too sudden, too dreadful! I do not +think I shall ever recover the shock of his loss!" +</P> + +<P> +And her eyes actually filled with tears; though the fact did not +surprise me in the least, for many women can weep at will. Very little +practice is necessary—and we men are such fools, we never know how it +is done; we take all the pretty feigned piteousness for real grief, and +torture ourselves to find methods of consolation for the feminine +sorrows which have no root save in vanity and selfishness. I glanced +quickly from my wife to Ferrari: he coughed, and appeared +embarrassed—he was not so good an actor as she was an actress. +Studying them both, I know not which feeling gained the mastery in my +mind—contempt or disgust. +</P> + +<P> +"Console yourself, madame," I said, coldly. "Time should be quick to +heal the wounds of one so young and beautiful as you are! Personally +speaking, I much regret your husband's death, but I would entreat YOU +not to give way to grief, which, however sincere, must unhappily be +useless. Your life lies before you—and may happy days and as fair a +future await you as you deserve!" +</P> + +<P> +She smiled, her tear-drops vanished like morning dew disappearing in +the heat. +</P> + +<P> +"I thank you for your good wishes, conte," she said "but it rests with +you to commence my happy days by honoring me with a visit. You will +come, will you not? My house and all that it contains are at your +service!" +</P> + +<P> +I hesitated. Ferrari looked amused. +</P> + +<P> +"Madame is not aware of your dislike to the society of ladies, conte," +he said, and there was a touch of mockery in his tone. I glanced at him +coldly, and addressed my answer to my wife. +</P> + +<P> +"Signor Ferrari is perfectly right," I said, bending over her, and +speaking in a low tone; "I am often ungallant enough to avoid the +society of mere women, but, alas! I have no armor of defense against +the smile of an angel." +</P> + +<P> +And I bowed with a deep and courtly reverence. Her face brightened—she +adored her own loveliness, and the desire of conquest awoke in her +immediately. She took a glass of wine from my hand with a languid +grace, and fixed her glorious eyes full on me with a smile. +</P> + +<P> +"That is a very pretty speech," she said, sweetly, "and it means, of +course, that you will come to-morrow. Angels exact obedience! Gui—, I +mean Signor Ferrari, you will accompany the conte and show him the way +to the villa?" +</P> + +<P> +Ferrari bent his head with some stiffness. He looked slightly sullen. +</P> + +<P> +"I am glad to see," he observed, with some petulance, "that your +persuasions have carried more conviction to the Conte Oliva than mine. +To me he was apparently inflexible." +</P> + +<P> +She laughed gayly. "Of course! It is only a woman who can always win +her own way—am I not right, conte?" And she glanced up at me with an +arch expression of mingled mirth and malice. What a love of mischief +she had! She saw that Guido was piqued, and she took intense delight in +teasing him still further. +</P> + +<P> +"I cannot tell, madame," I answered her. "I know so little of your +charming sex that I need to be instructed. But I instinctively feel +that YOU must be right, whatever you say. Your eyes would convert an +infidel!" +</P> + +<P> +Again she looked at me with one of those wonderfully brilliant, +seductive, arrowy glances—then she rose to take her leave. +</P> + +<P> +"An angel's visit truly," I said, lightly, "sweet, but brief!" +</P> + +<P> +"We shall meet to-morrow," she replied, smiling. "I consider I have +your promise; you must not fail me! Come as early as you like in the +afternoon, then you will see my little girl Stella. She is very like +poor Fabio. Till to-morrow, adieu!" +</P> + +<P> +She extended her hand. I raised it to my lips. She smiled as she +withdrew it, and looking at me, or rather at the glasses I wore, she +inquired: +</P> + +<P> +"You suffer with your eyes?" +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, madame, a terrible infirmity! I cannot endure the light. But I +should not complain—it is a weakness common to age." +</P> + +<P> +"You do not seem to be old," she said, thoughtfully. With a woman's +quick eye she had noted, I suppose, the unwrinkled smoothness of my +skin, which no disguise could alter. But I exclaimed with affected +surprise: +</P> + +<P> +"Not old! With these white hairs!" +</P> + +<P> +"Many young men have them," she said. "At any rate, they often +accompany middle age, or what is called the prime of life. And really, +in your case, they are very becoming!" +</P> + +<P> +And with a courteous gesture of farewell she moved to leave the room. +Both Ferrari and myself hastened to escort her downstairs to her +carriage, which stood in waiting at the door—the very carriage and +pair of chestnut ponies which I myself had given her as a birthday +present. Ferrari offered to assist her in mounting the step of the +vehicle; she put his arm aside with a light jesting word and accepted +mine instead. I helped her in, and arranged her embroidered wraps about +her feet, and she nodded gayly to us both as we stood bareheaded in the +afternoon sunlight watching her departure. The horses started at a +brisk canter, and in a couple of minutes the dainty equipage was out of +sight. When nothing more of it could be seen than the cloud of dust +stirred up by its rolling wheels, I turned to look at my companion. His +face was stern, and his brows were drawn together in a frown. Stung +already! I thought. Already the little asp of jealousy commenced its +bitter work! The trifling favor HIS light-o'-love and MY wife had +extended to me in choosing MY arm instead of HIS as a momentary support +had evidently been sufficient to pique his pride. God! what blind bats +men are! With all their high capabilities and immortal destinies, with +all the world before them to conquer, they can sink unnerved and beaten +down to impotent weakness before the slighting word or insolent gesture +of a frivolous feminine creature, whose best devotions are paid to the +mirror that reflects her in the most becoming light! How easy would be +my vengeance, I mused, as I watched Ferrari. I touched him on the +shoulder; he started from his uncomfortable reverie and forced a smile. +I held out a cigar-case. +</P> + +<P> +"What are you dreaming of?" I asked him, laughingly. "Hebe as she +waited on the gods, or Venus as she rose in bare beauty from the waves? +Either, neither, or both? I assure you a comfortable smoke is as +pleasant in its way as the smile of a woman." +</P> + +<P> +He took a cigar and lighted it, but made no answer. +</P> + +<P> +"You are dull, my friend," I continued, gayly, hooking my arm through +his and pacing him up and down on the turf in front of his studio. +"Wit, they say, should be sharpened by the glance of a bright eye; how +comes it that the edge of your converse seems blunted? Perhaps your +feelings are too deep for words? If so, I do not wonder at it, for the +lady is extremely lovely." +</P> + +<P> +He glanced quickly at me. +</P> + +<P> +"Did I not say so?" he exclaimed. "Of all creatures under heaven she is +surely the most perfect! Even you, conte, with your cynical ideas about +women, even you were quite subdued and influenced by her; I could see +it!" +</P> + +<P> +I puffed slowly at my cigar and pretended to meditate. +</P> + +<P> +"Was I?" I said at last, with an air of well-acted surprise. "Really +subdued and influenced? I do not think so. But I admit I have never +seen a woman so entirely beautiful." +</P> + +<P> +He stopped in his walk, loosened his arm from mine, and regarded me +fixedly. +</P> + +<P> +"I told you so," he said, deliberately. "You must remember that I told +you so. And now perhaps I ought to warn you." +</P> + +<P> +"Warn me!" I exclaimed, in feigned alarm. "Of what? against whom? +Surely not the Contessa Romani, to whom you were so anxious to +introduce me? She has no illness, no infectious disorder? She is not +dangerous to life or limb, is she?" +</P> + +<P> +Ferrari laughed at the anxiety I displayed for my own bodily safety—an +anxiety which I managed to render almost comic—but he looked somewhat +relieved too. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, no," he said, "I meant nothing of that kind. I only think it fair +to tell you that she has very seductive manners, and she may pay you +little attentions which would flatter any man who was not aware that +they are only a part of her childlike, pretty ways; in short, they +might lead him erroneously to suppose himself the object of her +particular preference, and—" +</P> + +<P> +I broke into a violent fit of laughter, and clapped him roughly on the +shoulder. +</P> + +<P> +"Your warning is quite unnecessary, my good young friend," I said. +"Come now, do I look a likely man to attract the attention of an adored +and capricious beauty? Besides, at my age the idea is monstrous! I +could figure as her father, as yours, if you like, but in the capacity +of a lover—impossible!" +</P> + +<P> +He eyed me attentively +</P> + +<P> +"She said you did not seem old," he murmured, half to himself and half +to me. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I grant you she made me that little compliment, certainly," I +answered, amused at the suspicions that evidently tortured his mind; +"and I accepted it as it was meant—in kindness. I am well aware what a +battered and unsightly wreck of a man I must appear in her eyes when +contrasted with YOU, Sir Antinous!" +</P> + +<P> +He flushed warmly. Then, with a half-apologetic air, he said: +</P> + +<P> +"Well, you must forgive me if I have seemed overscrupulous. The +contessa is like a—a sister to me; in fact, my late friend Fabio +encouraged a fraternal affection between us, and now he is gone I feel +it more than ever my duty to protect her, as it were, from herself. She +is so young and light-hearted and thoughtless that—but you understand +me, do you not?" +</P> + +<P> +I bowed. I understood him perfectly. He wanted no more poachers on the +land he himself had pilfered. Quite right, from his point of view! But +I was the rightful owner of the land after all, and I naturally had a +different opinion of the matter. However, I made no remark, and feigned +to be rather bored by the turn the conversation was taking. Seeing +this, Ferrari exerted himself to be agreeable; he became a gay and +entertaining companion once more, and after he had fixed the hour for +our visit to the Villa Romani the next afternoon, our talk turned upon +various matters connected with Naples and its inhabitants and their +mode of life. I hazarded a few remarks on the general immorality and +loose principles that prevailed among the people, just to draw my +companion out and sound his character more thoroughly—though I thought +I knew his opinions well. +</P> + +<P> +"Pooh, my dear conte," he exclaimed, with a light laugh, as he threw +away the end of his cigar, and watched it as it burned dully like a +little red lamp among the green grass where it had fallen, "what is +immorality after all? Merely a matter of opinion. Take the hackneyed +virtue of conjugal fidelity. When followed out to the better end what +is the good of it—where does it lead? Why should a man be tied to one +woman when he has love enough for twenty? The pretty slender girl whom +he chose as a partner in his impulsive youth may become a fat, coarse, +red-faced female horror by the time he has attained to the full vigor +of manhood—and yet, as long as she lives, the law insists that the +full tide of passion shall flow always in one direction—always to the +same dull, level, unprofitable shore! The law is absurd, but it exists; +and the natural consequence is that we break it. Society pretends to be +horrified when we do—yes, I know; but it is all pretense. And the +thing is no worse in Naples than it is in London, the capital of the +moral British race, only here we are perfectly frank, and make no +effort to hide our little sins, while there, they cover them up +carefully and make believe to be virtuous. It is the veriest +humbug—the parable of Pharisee and Publican over again. +</P> + +<P> +"Not quite," I observed, "for the Publican was repentant, and Naples is +not." +</P> + +<P> +"Why should she be?" demanded Ferrari, gayly; "what, in the name of +Heaven, is the good of being penitent about anything? Will it mend +matters? Who is to be pacified or pleased by our contrition? God? My +dear conte, there are very few of us nowadays who believe in a Deity. +Creation is a mere caprice of the natural elements. The best thing we +can do is to enjoy ourselves while we live; we have a very short time +of it, and when we die there is an end of all things so far as we are +concerned." +</P> + +<P> +"That is your creed?" I asked. +</P> + +<P> +"That is my creed, certainly. It was Solomon's in his heart of hearts. +'Eat, drink and be merry, for to-morrow we die.' It is the creed of +Naples, and of nearly all Italy. Of course the vulgar still cling to +exploded theories of superstitious belief, but the educated classes are +far beyond the old-world notions." +</P> + +<P> +"I believe you," I answered, composedly. I had no wish to argue with +him; I only sought to read his shallow soul through and through that I +might be convinced of his utter worthlessness. "According to modern +civilization there is really no special need to be virtuous unless it +suits us. The only thing necessary for pleasant living is to avoid +public scandal." +</P> + +<P> +"Just so!" agreed Ferrari; "and that can always be easily managed. Take +a woman's reputation—nothing is so easily lost, we all know, before +she is actually married; but marry her well, and she is free. She can +have a dozen lovers if she likes, and if she is a good manager her +husband need never be the wiser. He has HIS amours, of course—why +should she not have hers also? Only some women are clumsy, they are +over-sensitive and betray themselves too easily; then the injured +husband (carefully concealing his little peccadilloes) finds everything +out and there is a devil of a row—a moral row, which is the worst kind +of row. But a really clever woman can always steer clear of slander if +she likes." +</P> + +<P> +Contemptible ruffian! I thought, glancing at his handsome face and +figure with scarcely veiled contempt. With all his advantages of +education and his well-bred air he was yet ruffian to the core—as low +in nature, if not lower, than the half-savage tramp for whom no social +law has ever existed or ever will exist. But I merely observed: +</P> + +<P> +"It is easy to see that you have a thorough knowledge of the world and +its ways. I admire your perception! From your remarks I judge that you +have no sympathy with marital wrongs?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not the least," he replied, dryly; "they are too common and too +ludicrous. The 'wronged husband,' as he considers himself in such +cases, always cuts such an absurd figure." +</P> + +<P> +"Always?" I inquired, with apparent curiosity. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, generally speaking, he does. How can he remedy the matter? He +can only challenge his wife's lover. A duel is fought in which neither +of the opponents are killed, they wound each other slightly, embrace, +weep, have coffee together, and for the future consent to share the +lady's affections amicably." +</P> + +<P> +"Veramente!" I exclaimed, with a forced laugh, inwardly cursing his +detestable flippancy; "that is the fashionable mode of taking +vengeance?" +</P> + +<P> +"Absolutely the one respectable way of doing it," he replied; "it is +only the canaille who draw heart's blood in earnest." +</P> + +<P> +Only the canaille! I looked at him fixedly. His smiling eyes met mine +with a frank and fearless candor. Evidently he was not ashamed of his +opinions, he rather gloried in them. As he stood there with the warm +sunlight playing upon his features he seemed the very type of youthful +and splendid manhood; an Apollo in exterior—in mind a Silenus. My soul +sickened at the sight of him. I felt that the sooner this strong +treacherous life was crushed the better; there would be one traitor +less in the world at any rate. The thought of my dread but just purpose +passed over me like the breath of a bitter wind—a tremor shook my +nerves. My face must have betrayed some sign of my inward emotion, for +Ferrari exclaimed: +</P> + +<P> +"You are fatigued, conte? You are ill! Pray take my arm!" +</P> + +<P> +He extended it as he spoke. I put it gently but firmly aside. +</P> + +<P> +"It is nothing," I said, coldly; "a mere faintness which often +overcomes me, the remains of a recent illness." Here I glanced at my +watch; the afternoon was waning rapidly. +</P> + +<P> +"If you will excuse me," I continued, "I will now take leave of you. +Regarding the pictures you have permitted me to select, my servant +shall call for them this evening to save you the trouble of sending +them." +</P> + +<P> +"It is no trouble—" began Ferrari. +</P> + +<P> +"Pardon me," I interrupted him; "you must allow me to arrange the +matter in my own way. I am somewhat self-willed, as you know." +</P> + +<P> +He bowed and smiled—the smile of a courtier and sycophant—a smile I +hated. He eagerly proposed to accompany me back to my hotel, but I +declined this offer somewhat peremptorily, though at the same time +thanking him for his courtesy. The truth was I had had almost too much +of his society; the strain on my nerves began to tell; I craved to be +alone. I felt that if I were much longer with him I should be tempted +to spring at him and throttle the life out of him. As it was, I bade +him adieu with friendly though constrained politeness; he was profuse +in his acknowledgments of the favor I had done him by purchasing his +pictures. I waived all thanks aside, assuring him that my satisfaction +in the matter far exceeded his, and that I was proud to be the +possessor of such valuable proofs of his genius. He swallowed my +flattery as eagerly as a fish swallows bait, and we parted on excellent +terms. He watched me from his door as I walked down the hilly road with +the slow and careful step of an elderly man; once out of his sight, +however, I quickened my pace, for the tempest of conflicting sensations +within me made it difficult for me to maintain even the appearance of +composure. On entering my apartment at the hotel the first thing that +met my eyes was a large gilt osier basket, filled with fine fruit and +flowers, placed conspicuously on the center-table. +</P> + +<P> +I summoned my valet. "Who sent this?" I demanded. +</P> + +<P> +"Madame the Contessa Romani," replied Vincenzo with discreet gravity. +"There is a card attached, if the eccelenza will be pleased to look." +</P> + +<P> +I did look. It was my wife's visiting-card, and on it was written in +her own delicate penmanship— +</P> + +<P> +"To remind the conte of his promised visit to-morrow." +</P> + +<P> +A sudden anger possessed me. I crumpled up the dainty glossy bit of +pasteboard and flung it aside. The mingled odors of the fruit and +flowers offended my senses. +</P> + +<P> +"I care nothing for these trifles," I said, addressing Vincenzo almost +impatiently. "Take them to the little daughter of the hotel-keeper; she +is a child, she will appreciate them. Take them away at once." +</P> + +<P> +Obediently Vincenzo lifted the basket and bore it out of the room. I +was relieved when its fragrance and color had vanished. I, to receive +as a gift, the product of my own garden! Half vexed, half sore at +heart, I threw myself into an easychair—anon I laughed aloud! So! +Madame commences the game early, I thought. Already paying these marked +attentions to a man she knows nothing of beyond that he is reported to +be fabulously wealthy. Gold, gold forever! What will it not do! It will +bring the proud to their knees, it will force the obstinate to servile +compliance, it will conquer aversion and prejudice. The world is a +slave to its yellow glitter, and the love of woman, that perishable +article of commerce, is ever at its command. Would you obtain a kiss +from a pair of ripe-red lips that seem the very abode of honeyed +sweetness? Pay for it then with a lustrous diamond; the larger the gem +the longer the kiss! The more diamonds you give, the more caresses you +will get. The jeunesse doree who ruin themselves and their ancestral +homes for the sake of the newest and prettiest female puppet on the +stage know this well enough. I smiled bitterly as I thought of the +languid witching look my wife had given me when she said, "You do not +seem to be old!" I knew the meaning of her eyes; I had not studied +their liquid lights and shadows so long for nothing. My road to revenge +was a straight and perfectly smooth line—almost too smooth. I could +have wished for some difficulty, some obstruction; but there was +none—absolutely none. The traitors walked deliberately into the trap +set for them. Over and over again I asked myself quietly and in cold +blood—was there any reason why I should have pity on them? Had they +shown one redeeming point in their characters? Was there any nobleness, +any honesty, any real sterling good quality in either of them to +justify my consideration? And always the answer came, NO! Hollow to the +heart's core, hypocrites both, liars both—even the guilty passion they +cherished for one another had no real earnestness in it save the +pursuit of present pleasure; for she, Nina, in that fatal interview in +the avenue where I had been a tortured listener, had hinted at the +possibility of tiring of her lover, and HE had frankly declared to me +that very day that it was absurd to suppose a man could be true to one +woman all his life. In brief, they deserved their approaching fate. +Such men as Guido and such women as my wife, are, I know, common enough +in all classes of society, but they are not the less pernicious +animals, meriting extermination as much, if not more, than the less +harmful beasts of prey. The poor beasts at any rate tell no lies, and +after death their skins are of some value; but who shall measure the +mischief done by a false tongue—and of what use is the corpse of a +liar save to infect the air with pestilence? I used to wonder at the +superiority of men over the rest of the animal creation, but I see now +that it is chiefly gained by excess of selfish cunning. The bulky, +good-natured, ignorant lion who has only one honest way of defending +himself, namely with tooth and claw, is no match for the jumping +two-legged little rascal who hides himself behind a bush and fires a +gun aimed direct at the bigger brute's heart. Yet the lion's mode of +battle is the braver of the two, and the cannons, torpedoes and other +implements of modern warfare are proofs of man's cowardice and cruelty +as much as they are of his diabolical ingenuity. Calmly comparing the +ordinary lives of men and beasts—judging them by their abstract +virtues merely—I am inclined to think the beasts the more respectable +of the two! +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap15"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XV. +</H3> + +<P> +"Welcome to Villa Romani!" +</P> + +<P> +The words fell strangely on my ears. Was I dreaming, or was I actually +standing on the smooth green lawn of my own garden, mechanically +saluting my own wife, who, smiling sweetly, uttered this cordial +greeting? For a moment or two my brain became confused; the familiar +veranda with its clustering roses and jasmine swayed unsteadily before +my eyes; the stately house, the home of my childhood, the scene of my +past happiness, rocked in the air as though it were about to fall. A +choking sensation affected my throat. Even the sternest men shed tears +sometimes. Such tears too! wrung like drops of blood from the heart. +And I—I could have wept thus. Oh, the dear old home! and how fair and +yet how sad it seemed to my anguished gaze! It should have been in +ruins surely—broken and cast down in the dust like its master's peace +and honor. Its master, did I say? Who was its master? Involuntarily I +glanced at Ferrari, who stood beside me. Not he—not he; by Heaven he +should never be master! But where was MY authority? I came to the place +as a stranger and an alien. The starving beggar who knows not where to +lay his head has no emptier or more desolate heart than I had as I +looked wistfully on the home which was mine before I died! I noticed +some slight changes here and there; for instance, my deep easy-chair +that had always occupied one particular corner of the veranda was gone; +a little tame bird that I had loved, whose cage used to hang up among +the white roses on the wall, was also gone. My old butler, the servant +who admitted Ferrari and myself within the gates, had an expression of +weariness and injury on his aged features which he had not worn in my +time, and which I was sorry to see. And my dog, the noble black Scotch +colly, what had become of him, I wondered? He had been presented to me +by a young Highlander who had passed one winter with me in Rome, and +who, on returning to his native mountains, had sent me the dog, a +perfect specimen of its kind, as a souvenir of our friendly +intercourse. Poor Wyvis! I thought. Had they made away with him? +Formerly he had always been visible about the house or garden; his +favorite place was on the lowest veranda step, where he loved to bask +in the heat of the sun. And now he was nowhere visible. I was mutely +indignant at his disappearance, but I kept strict watch over my +feelings, and remembered in time the part I had to play. +</P> + +<P> +"Welcome to Villa Romani!" so said my wife. Then, remarking my silence +as I looked about me, she added with a pretty coaxing air, +</P> + +<P> +"I am afraid after all you are sorry you have come to see me!" +</P> + +<P> +I smiled. It served my purpose now to be as gallant and agreeable as I +could; therefore I answered: +</P> + +<P> +"Sorry, madame! If I were, then should I be the most ungrateful of all +men! Was Dante sorry, think you, when he was permitted to behold +Paradise?" +</P> + +<P> +She blushed; her eyes drooped softly under their long curling lashes. +Ferrari frowned impatiently—but was silent. She led the way into the +house—into the lofty cool drawing-room, whose wide windows opened out +to the garden. Here all was the same as ever with the exception of one +thing—a marble bust of myself as a boy had been removed. The grand +piano was open, the mandoline lay on a side-table, looking as though it +had been recently used; there were fresh flowers and ferns in all the +tall Venetian glass vases. I seated myself and remarked on the beauty +of the house and its surroundings. +</P> + +<P> +"I remember it very well," I added, quietly. +</P> + +<P> +"You remember it!" exclaimed Ferrari, quickly, as though surprised. +</P> + +<P> +"Certainly. I omitted to tell you, my friend, that I used to visit this +spot often when a boy. The elder Conte Romani and myself played about +these grounds together. The scene is quite familiar to me." +</P> + +<P> +Nina listened with an appearance of interest. +</P> + +<P> +"Did you ever see my late husband?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Once," I answered her, gravely. "He was a mere child at the time, and, +as far as I could discern, a very promising one. His father seemed +greatly attached to him. I knew his mother also." +</P> + +<P> +"Indeed," she exclaimed, settling herself on a low ottoman and fixing +her eyes upon me; "what was she like?" +</P> + +<P> +I paused a moment before replying. Could I speak of that unstained +sacred life of wifehood and motherhood to this polluted though lovely +creature? +</P> + +<P> +"She was a beautiful woman unconscious of her beauty," I answered at +last. "There, all is said. Her sole aim seemed to be to forget herself +in making others happy, and to surround her home with an atmosphere of +goodness and virtue. She died young." +</P> + +<P> +Ferrari glanced at me with an evil sneer in his eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"That was fortunate," he said. "She had no time to tire of her husband, +else—who knows?" +</P> + +<P> +My blood rose rapidly to an astonishing heat, but I controlled myself. +</P> + +<P> +"I do not understand you," I said, with marked frigidity. "The lady I +speak of lived and died under the old regime of noblesse oblige. I am +not so well versed in modern social forms of morality as yourself." +</P> + +<P> +Nina hastily interposed. "Oh, my dear conte," she said, laughingly, +"pay no attention to Signor Ferrari! He is rash sometimes, and says +very foolish things, but he really does not mean them. It is only his +way! My poor dear husband used to be quite vexed with him sometimes, +though he WAS so fond of him. But, conte, as you know so much about the +family, I am sure you will like to see my little Stella. Shall I send +for her, or are you bored by children?" +</P> + +<P> +"On the contrary, madame, I am fond of them," I answered, with forced +composure, though my heart throbbed with mingled delight and agony at +the thought of seeing my little one again. "And the child of my old +friend's son must needs have a double interest for me." +</P> + +<P> +My wife rang the bell, and gave orders to the maid who answered it to +send her little girl to her at once. Ferrari meanwhile engaged me in +conversation, and strove, I could see, by entire deference to my +opinions, to make up for any offense his previous remark might have +given. A few moments passed—and then the handle of the drawing-room +door was timidly turned by an evidently faltering and unpracticed hand. +Nina called out impatiently—"Come in, baby! Do not be afraid—come +in!" With that the door slowly opened and my little daughter entered. +Though I had been so short a time absent from her it was easy to see +the child had changed very much. Her face looked pinched and +woe-begone, its expression was one of fear and distrust. The laughter +had faded out of her young eyes, and was replaced by a serious look of +pained resignation that was pitiful to see in one of her tender years. +Her mouth drooped plaintively at the corners—her whole demeanor had an +appealing anxiety in it that spoke plainly to my soul and enlightened +me as to the way she had evidently been forgotten and neglected. She +approached us hesitatingly, but stopped half-way and looked doubtfully +at Ferrari. He met her alarmed gaze with a mocking smile. +</P> + +<P> +"Come along, Stella!" he said. "You need not be frightened! I will not +scold you unless you are naughty. Silly child! you look as if I were +the giant in the fairy tale, going to eat you up for dinner. Come and +speak to this gentleman—he knew your papa." +</P> + +<P> +At this word her eyes brightened, her small steps grew more assured and +steady—she advanced and put her tiny hand in mine. The touch of the +soft, uncertain little fingers almost unmanned me. I drew her toward me +and lifted her on my knee. Under pretense of kissing her I hid my face +for a second or two in her clustering fair curls, while I forced back +the womanish tears that involuntarily filled my eyes. My poor little +darling! I wonder now how I maintained my set composure before the +innocent thoughtfulness of her gravely questioning gaze! I had fancied +she might possibly be scared by the black spectacles I wore—children +are frightened by such things sometimes—but she was not. No; she sat +on my knee with an air of perfect satisfaction, though she looked at me +so earnestly as almost to disturb my self-possession. Nina and Ferrari +watched her with some amusement, but she paid no heed to them—she +persisted in staring at me. Suddenly a slow sweet smile—the tranquil +smile of a contented baby, dawned all over her face; she extended her +little arms, and, of her own accord, put up her lips to kiss me! Half +startled at this manifestation of affection, I hurriedly caught her to +my heart and returned her caress, then I looked furtively at my wife +and Guido. Had they any suspicion? No! why should they have any? Had +not Ferrari himself seen me BURIED? Reassured by this thought I +addressed myself to Stella, making my voice as gratingly harsh as I +could, for I dreaded the child's quick instinct. +</P> + +<P> +"You are a very charming little lady!" I said, playfully. "And so your +name is Stella? That is because you are a little star, I suppose?" +</P> + +<P> +She became meditative. "Papa said I was," she answered, softly and +shyly. +</P> + +<P> +"Papa spoiled you!" interposed Nina, pressing a filmy black-bordered +handkerchief to her eyes. "Poor papa! You were not so naughty to him as +you are to me." +</P> + +<P> +The child's lip quivered, but she was silent. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, fy!" I murmured, half chidingly. "Are you ever naughty? Surely +not! All little stars are good—they never cry—they are always bright +and calm." +</P> + +<P> +Still she remained mute—a sigh, deep enough for an older sufferer, +heaved her tiny breast. She leaned her head against my arm and raised +her eyes appealingly. +</P> + +<P> +"Have you seen my papa?" she asked, timidly. "Will he come back soon?" +</P> + +<P> +For a moment I did not answer her. Ferrari took it upon himself to +reply roughly. "Don't talk nonsense, baby! You know your papa has gone +away—you were too naughty for him, and he will never come back again. +He has gone to a place where there are no tiresome little girls to +tease him." +</P> + +<P> +Thoughtless and cruel words! I at once understood the secret grief that +weighed on the child's mind. Whenever she was fretful or petulant, they +evidently impressed it upon her that her father had left her because of +her naughtiness. She had taken this deeply to heart; no doubt she had +brooded upon it in her own vague childish fashion, and had puzzled her +little brain as to what she could possibly have done to displease her +father so greatly that he had actually gone away never to return. +Whatever her thoughts were, she did not on this occasion give vent to +them by tears or words. She only turned her eyes on Ferrari with a look +of intense pride and scorn, strange to see in so little a creature—a +true Romani look, such as I had often noticed in my father's eyes, and +such as I knew must be frequently visible in my own. Ferrari saw it, +and burst out laughing loudly. +</P> + +<P> +"There!" he exclaimed. "Like that she exactly resembles her father! It +is positively ludicrous! Fabio, all over! She only wants one thing to +make the portrait perfect." And approaching her, he snatched one of her +long curls and endeavored to twist it over her mouth in the form of a +mustache. The child struggled angrily, and hid her face against my +coat. The more she tried to defend herself the greater the malice with +which Ferrari tormented her. Her mother did not interfere—she only +laughed. I held the little thing closely sheltered in my embrace, and +steadying down the quiver of indignation in my voice, I said with quiet +firmness: +</P> + +<P> +"Fair play, signor! Fair play! Strength becomes mere bullying when it +is employed against absolute weakness." +</P> + +<P> +Ferrari laughed again, but this time uneasily, and ceasing his +monkeyish pranks, walked to the window. Smoothing Stella's tumbled +hair, I added with a sarcastic smile: +</P> + +<P> +"This little donzella, will have her revenge when she grows up. +Recollecting how one man teased her in childhood, she, in return, will +consider herself justified in teasing all men. Do you not agree with +me, madame?" I said, turning to my wife, who gave me a sweetly +coquettish look as she answered: +</P> + +<P> +"Well, really, conte, I do not know! For with the remembrance of one +man who teased her, must come also the thought of another who was kind +to her—yourself—she will find it difficult to decide the juste +milieu." +</P> + +<P> +A subtle compliment was meant to be conveyed in these words. I +acknowledged it by a silent gesture of admiration, which she quickly +understood and accepted. Was ever a man in the position of being +delicately flattered by his own wife before? I think not! Generally +married persons are like candid friends—fond of telling each other +very unpleasant truths, and altogether avoiding the least soupcon of +flattery. Though I was not so much flattered as amused—considering the +position of affairs. Just then a servant threw open the door and +announced dinner. I set my child very gently down from my knee and +whisperingly told her that I would come and see her soon again. She +smiled trustfully, and then in obedience to her mother's imperative +gesture, slipped quietly out of the room. As soon as she had gone I +praised her beauty warmly, for she was really a lovely little +thing—but I could see my admiration of her was not very acceptable to +either my wife or her lover. We all went in to dinner—I, as guest, +having the privilege of escorting my fair and spotless spouse! On our +reaching the dining-room Nina said— +</P> + +<P> +"You are such an old friend of the family, conte, that perhaps you will +not mind sitting at the head of the table?" +</P> + +<P> +"Tropp' onore, signora!" I answered, bowing gallantly, as I at once +resumed my rightful place at my own table, Ferrari placing himself on +my right hand, Nina on my left. The butler, my father's servant and +mine, stood as of old behind my chair, and I noticed that each time he +supplied me with wine he eyed me with a certain timid curiosity—but I +knew I had a singular and conspicuous appearance, which easily +accounted for his inquisitiveness. Opposite to where I sat, hung my +father's portrait—the character I personated permitted me to look at +it fixedly and give full vent to the deep sigh which in very earnest +broke from my heart. The eyes of the picture seemed to gaze into mine +with a sorrowful compassion—almost I fancied the firm-set lips +trembled and moved to echo my sigh. +</P> + +<P> +"Is that a good likeness?" Ferrari asked, suddenly. +</P> + +<P> +I started, and recollecting myself, answered: "Excellent! So true a +resemblance that it arouses along train of memories in my +mind—memories both bitter and sweet. Ah! what a proud fellow he was!" +</P> + +<P> +"Fabio was also very proud," chimed in my wife's sweet voice. "Very +cold and haughty." +</P> + +<P> +Little liar! How dared she utter this libel on my memory! Haughty, I +might have been to others, but never to her—and coldness was no part +of my nature. Would that it were! Would that I had been a pillar of +ice, incapable of thawing in the sunlight of her witching smile! Had +she forgotten what a slave I was to her? what a poor, adoring, +passionate fool I became under the influence of her hypocritical +caresses! I thought this to myself, but I answered aloud: +</P> + +<P> +"Indeed! I am surprised to hear that. The Romani hauteur had ever to my +mind something genial and yielding about it—I know my friend was +always most gentle to his dependents." +</P> + +<P> +The butler here coughed apologetically behind his hand—an old trick of +his, and one which signified his intense desire to speak. +</P> + +<P> +Ferrari laughed, as he held out his glass for more wine. +</P> + +<P> +"Here is old Giacomo," he said, nodding to him lightly. "He remembers +both the Romanis—ask him HIS opinion of Fabio—he worshiped his +master." +</P> + +<P> +I turned to my servant, and with a benignant air addressed him: +</P> + +<P> +"Your face is not familiar to me, my friend," I said. "Perhaps you were +not here when I visited the elder Count Romani?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, eccellenza," replied Giacomo, rubbing his withered hands nervously +together, and speaking with a sort of suppressed eagerness, "I came +into my lord's service only a year before the countess died—I mean the +mother of the young count." +</P> + +<P> +"Ah! then I missed making your acquaintance," I said, kindly, pitying +the poor old fellow, as I noticed how his lips trembled, and how +altogether broken he looked. "You knew the last count from childhood, +then?" +</P> + +<P> +"I did, eccellenza!" And his bleared eyes roved over me with a sort of +alarmed inquiry. +</P> + +<P> +"You loved him well?" I said, composedly, observing him with +embarrassment. +</P> + +<P> +"Eccellenza, I never wish to serve a better master. He was goodness +itself—a fine, handsome, generous lad—the saints have his soul in +their keeping! Though sometimes I cannot believe he is dead—my old +heart almost broke when I heard it. I have never been the same +since—my lady will tell you so—she is often displeased with me." +</P> + +<P> +And he looked wistfully at her; there was a note of pleading in his +hesitating accents. My wife's delicate brows drew together in a frown, +a frown that I had once thought came from mere petulance, but which I +was now inclined to accept as a sign of temper. "Yes, indeed, Giacomo," +she said, in hard tones, altogether unlike her usual musical voice. +"You are growing so forgetful that it is positively annoying. You know +I have often to tell you the same thing several times. One command +ought to be sufficient for you." +</P> + +<P> +Giacomo passed his hand over his forehead in a troubled way, sighed, +and was silent. Then, as if suddenly recollecting his duty, he refilled +my glass, and shrinking aside, resumed his former position behind my +chair. +</P> + +<P> +The conversation now turned on desultory and indifferent matters. I +knew my wife was an excellent talker, but on that particular evening I +think she surpassed herself. She had resolved to fascinate me, THAT I +saw at once, and she spared no pains to succeed in her ambition. +Graceful sallies, witty bon-mots tipped with the pungent sparkle of +satire, gay stories well and briskly told, all came easily from her +lips, so that though I knew her so well, she almost surprised me by her +variety and fluency. Yet this gift of good conversation in a woman is +apt to mislead the judgment of those who listen, for it is seldom the +result of thought, and still more seldom is it a proof of intellectual +capacity. A woman talks as a brook babbles; pleasantly, but without +depth. Her information is generally of the most surface kind—she skims +the cream off each item of news, and serves it up to you in her own +fashion, caring little whether it be correct or the reverse. And the +more vivaciously she talks, the more likely she is to be dangerously +insincere and cold-hearted, for the very sharpness of her wit is apt to +spoil the more delicate perceptions of her nature. Show me a brilliant +woman noted for turning an epigram or pointing a satire, and I will +show you a creature whose life is a masquerade, full of vanity, +sensuality and pride. The man who marries such a one must be content to +take the second place in his household, and play the character of the +henpecked husband with what meekness he best may. Answer me, ye long +suffering spouses of "society women" how much would you give to win +back your freedom and self-respect? to be able to hold your head up +unabashed before your own servants? to feel that you can actually give +an order without its being instantly countermanded? Ah, my poor +friends! millions will not purchase you such joy; as long as your +fascinating fair ones are like Caesar's wife, "above suspicion" (and +they are generally prudent managers), so long must you dance in their +chains like the good-natured clumsy bears that you are, only giving +vent to a growl now and then; a growl which at best only excites +ridicule. My wife was of the true world worldly; never had I seen her +real character so plainly as now, when she exerted herself to entertain +and charm me. I had thought her spirituelle, ethereal, angelic! never +was there less of an angel than she! While she talked, I was quick to +observe the changes on Ferrari's countenance. He became more silent and +sullen as her brightness and cordiality increased. I would not appear +aware of the growing stiffness in his demeanor; I continued to draw him +into the conversation, forcing him to give opinions on various subjects +connected with the art of which he was professedly a follower. He was +very reluctant to speak at all; and when compelled to do so, his +remarks were curt and almost snappish, so much so that my wife made a +laughing comment on his behavior. +</P> + +<P> +"You are positively ill-tempered, Guido!" she exclaimed, then +remembering she had addressed him by his Christian name, she turned to +me and added—"I always call him Guido, en famille; you know he is just +like a brother to me." +</P> + +<P> +He looked at her and his eyes flashed dangerously, but he was mute. +Nina was evidently pleased to see him in such a vexed mood; she +delighted to pique his pride, and as he steadily gazed at her in a sort +of reproachful wonder, she laughed joyously. Then rising from the +table, she made us a coquettish courtesy. +</P> + +<P> +"I will leave you two gentlemen to finish your wine together," she +said, "I know all men love to talk a little scandal, and they must be +alone to enjoy it. Afterward, will you join me in the veranda? You will +find coffee ready." +</P> + +<P> +I hastened to open the door for her as she passed out smiling; then, +returning to the table, I poured out more wine for myself and Ferrari, +who sat gloomily eying his own reflection in the broad polished rim of +a silver fruit-dish that stood near him. Giacomo, the butler, had long +ago left the room; we were entirely alone. I thought over my plans for +a moment or two; the game was as interesting as a problem in chess. +With the deliberation of a prudent player I made my next move. +</P> + +<P> +"A lovely woman!" I murmured, meditatively, sipping my wine, "and +intelligent also. I admire your taste, signor!" +</P> + +<P> +He started violently. "What—what do you mean?" he demanded, half +fiercely. I stroked my mustache and smiled at him benevolently. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, young blood! young blood!" I sighed, shaking my head, "it will +have its way! My good sir, why be ashamed of your feelings? I heartily +sympathize with you; if the lady does not appreciate the affection of +so ardent and gallant an admirer, then she is foolish indeed! It is not +every woman who has such a chance of happiness." +</P> + +<P> +"You think—you imagine that—that—I—" +</P> + +<P> +"That you are in love with her?" I said, composedly. "Ma—certamente! +And why not? It is as it should be. Even the late conte could wish no +fairer fate for his beautiful widow than that she should become the +wife of his chosen friend. Permit me to drink your health! Success to +your love!" And I drained my glass as I finished speaking, Unfortunate +fool! He was completely disarmed; his suspicions of me melted away like +mist before the morning light. His face cleared—he seized my hand and +pressed it warmly. +</P> + +<P> +"Forgive me, conte," he said, with remorseful fervor; "I fear I have +been rude and unsociable. Your kind words have put me right again. You +will think me a jealous madman, but I really fancied that you were +beginning to feel an attraction for her yourself, and actually—(pardon +me, I entreat of you!) actually I was making up my mind to—to kill +you!" +</P> + +<P> +I laughed quietly. "Veramente! How very amiable of you! It was a good +intention, but you know what place is paved with similar designs?" +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, conte, it is like your generosity to take my confession so +lightly; but I assure you, for the last hour I have been absolutely +wretched!" +</P> + +<P> +"After the fashion of all lovers, I suppose," I answered "torturing +yourself without necessity! Well, well, it is very amusing! My young +friend, when you come to my time of life, you will prefer the chink of +gold to the laughter and kisses of women. How often must I repeat to +you that I am a man absolutely indifferent to the tender passion? +Believe it or not, it is true." +</P> + +<P> +He drank off his wine at one gulp and spoke with some excitement. +</P> + +<P> +"Then I will frankly confide in you. I DO love the contessa. Love! it +is too weak a word to describe what I feel. The touch of her hand +thrills me, her very voice seems to shake my soul, her eyes burn +through me! Ah! YOU cannot know—YOU could not understand the joy, the +pain—" +</P> + +<P> +"Calm yourself," I said, in a cold tone, watching my victim as his +pent-up emotion betrayed itself, "The great thing is to keep the head +cool when the blood burns. You think she loves you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Think! Gran Dio! She has—" here he paused and his face flushed +deeply—"nay! I have no right to say anything on that score. I know she +never cared for her husband." +</P> + +<P> +"I know that too!" I answered, steadily. "The most casual observer +cannot fail to notice it." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, and no wonder!" he exclaimed, warmly. "He was such an +undemonstrative fool! What business had such a fellow as that to marry +so exquisite a creature!" +</P> + +<P> +My heart leaped with a sudden impulse of fury, but I controlled my +voice and answered calmly: +</P> + +<P> +"Requiescat in pace! He is dead—let him rest. Whatever his faults, his +wife of course was true to him while he lived; she considered him +worthy of fidelity—is it not so?" +</P> + +<P> +He lowered his eyes as he replied in an indistinct tone: +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, certainly!" +</P> + +<P> +"And you—you were a most loyal and faithful friend to him, in spite of +the tempting bright eyes of his lady?" +</P> + +<P> +Again he answered huskily, "Why, of course!" But the shapely hand that +rested on the table so near to mine trembled. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, then," I continued, quietly, "the love you bear now to his fair +widow is, I imagine, precisely what he would approve. Being, as you +say, perfectly pure and blameless, what can I wish otherwise than +this—may it meet with the reward it deserves!" +</P> + +<P> +While I spoke he moved uneasily in his chair, and his eyes roved to my +father's picture with restless annoyance. I suppose he saw in it the +likeness to his dead friend. After a moment or two of silence he turned +to me with a forced smile— +</P> + +<P> +"And so you really entertain no admiration for the contessa?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, pardon me, I DO entertain a very strong admiration for her, but +not of the kind you seem to suspect. If it will please you, I can +guarantee that I shall never make love to the lady unless—" +</P> + +<P> +"Unless what?" he asked, eagerly. +</P> + +<P> +"Unless she happens to make love to me, In which case it would be +ungallant not to reciprocate!" +</P> + +<P> +And I laughed harshly. He stared at me in blank surprise. "SHE make +love to YOU!" he exclaimed, "You jest. She would never do such a thing." +</P> + +<P> +"Of course not!" I answered, rising and clapping him heavily on the +shoulder. "Women never court men, it is quite unheard of; a reverse of +the order of nature! You are perfectly safe, my friend; you will +certainly win the recompense you so richly merit. Come, let us go and +drink coffee with the fair one." +</P> + +<P> +And arm-in-arm we sauntered out to the veranda in the most friendly way +possible. Ferrari was completely restored to good humor, and Nina, I +thought, was rather relieved to see it. She was evidently afraid of +Ferrari—a good point for me to remember. She smiled a welcome to us as +we approached, and began to pour out the fragrant coffee. It was a +glorious evening; the moon was already high in the heavens, and the +nightingales' voices echoed softly from the distant woods. As I seated +myself in a low chair that was placed invitingly near that of my +hostess, my ears were startled by a long melancholy howl, which changed +every now and then to an impatient whine. +</P> + +<P> +"What is that?" I asked, though the question was needless, for I knew +the sound. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, it is that tiresome dog Wyvis," answered Nina, in a vexed tone. +"He belonged to Fabio. He makes the evening quite miserable with his +moaning." +</P> + +<P> +"Where is he?" +</P> + +<P> +"Well, after my husband's death he became so troublesome, roaming all +over the house and wailing; and then he would insist on sleeping in +Stella's room close to her bedside. He really worried me both day and +night, so I was compelled to chain him up." +</P> + +<P> +Poor Wyvis! He was sorely punished for his fidelity. +</P> + +<P> +"I am very fond of dogs," I said, slowly, "and they generally take to +me with extraordinary devotion. May I see this one of yours?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, certainly! Guido, will you go and unfasten him?" +</P> + +<P> +Guido did not move; he leaned easily back in his chair sipping his +coffee. +</P> + +<P> +"Many thanks," he answered, with a half laugh; "perhaps you forget that +last time I did so he nearly tore me to pieces. If you do not object, I +would rather Giacomo undertook the task." +</P> + +<P> +"After such an account of the animal's conduct, perhaps the conte will +not care to see him. It is true enough," turning to me as she spoke, +"Wyvis has taken a great dislike to Signor Ferrari—and yet he is a +good-natured dog, and plays with my little girl all day if she goes to +him. Do you feel inclined to see him? Yes?" And, as I bowed in the +affirmative, she rang a little bell twice, and the butler appeared. +</P> + +<P> +"Giacomo," she continued, "unloose Wyvis and send him here." +</P> + +<P> +Giacomo gave me another of those timid questioning glances, and +departed to execute his order. In another five minutes, the howling had +suddenly ceased, a long, lithe, black, shadowy creature came leaping +wildly across the moonlighted lawn—Wyvis was racing at full speed. He +paid no heed to his mistress or Ferrari; he rushed straight to me with +a yelp of joy. His huge tail wagged incessantly, he panted thirstily +with excitement, he frisked round and round my chair, he abased himself +and kissed my feet and hands, he rubbed his stately head fondly against +my knee. His frantic demonstrations of delight were watched by my wife +and Ferrari with utter astonishment. I observed their surprise, and +said lightly: +</P> + +<P> +"I told you how it would be! It is nothing remarkable, I assure you. +All dogs treat me in the same way." +</P> + +<P> +And I laid my hand on the animal's neck with a commanding pressure; he +lay down at once, only now and then raising his large wistful brown +eyes to my face as though he wondered what had changed it so greatly. +But no disguise could deceive his intelligence—the faithful creature +knew his master. Meantime I thought Nina looked pale; certainly the +little jeweled white hand nearest to me shook slightly. +</P> + +<P> +"Are you afraid of this noble animal, madame?" I asked, watching her +closely. She laughed, a little forcedly. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, no! But Wyvis is usually so shy with strangers, and I never saw +him greet any one so rapturously except my late husband. It is really +very odd!" +</P> + +<P> +Ferrari, by his looks, agreed with her, and appeared to be uneasily +considering the circumstance. +</P> + +<P> +"Strange to say," he remarked, "Wyvis has for once forgotten me. He +never fails to give me a passing snarl." +</P> + +<P> +Hearing his voice, the dog did indeed commence growling discontentedly; +but a touch from me silenced him. The animal's declared enmity toward +Ferrari surprised me—it was quite a new thing, as before my burial his +behavior to him had been perfectly friendly. +</P> + +<P> +"I have had a great deal to do with dogs in my time," I said, speaking +in a deliberately composed voice. "I have found their instinct +marvelous; they generally seem to recognize at once the persons who are +fond of their society. This Wyvis of yours, contessa, has no doubt +discovered that I have had many friends among his brethren, so that +there is nothing strange in his making so much of me." +</P> + +<P> +The air of studied indifference with which I spoke, and the fact of my +taking the exuberant delight of Wyvis as a matter of course, gradually +reassured the plainly disturbed feelings of my two betrayers, for after +a little pause the incident was passed over, and our conversation went +on with pleasant and satisfactory smoothness. Before my departure that +evening, however, I offered to chain up the dog—"as, if I do this," I +added, "I guarantee he will not disturb your night's rest by his +howling." +</P> + +<P> +This suggestion met with approval, and Ferrari walked with me to show +me where the kennel stood. I chained Wyvis, and stroked him tenderly; +he appeared to understand, and he accepted his fate with perfect +resignation, lying down upon his bed of straw without a sign of +opposition, save for one imploring look out of his intelligent eyes as +I turned away and left him. +</P> + +<P> +On making my adieus to Nina, I firmly refused Ferrari's offered +companionship in the walk back to my hotel. +</P> + +<P> +"I am fond of a solitary moonlight stroll," I said. "Permit me to have +my own way in the matter." +</P> + +<P> +After some friendly argument they yielded to my wishes. I bade them +both a civil "good-night," bending low over my wife's hand and kissing +it, coldly enough, God knows, and yet the action was sufficient to make +her flush and sparkle with pleasure. Then I left them, Ferrari himself +escorting me to the villa gates, and watching me pass out on the open +road. As long as he stood there, I walked with a slow and meditative +pace toward the city, but the instant I heard the gate clang heavily as +it closed, I hurried back with a cautious and noiseless step. Avoiding +the great entrance, I slipped round to the western side of the grounds, +where there was a close thicket of laurel that extended almost up to +the veranda I had just left. Entering this and bending the boughs +softly aside as I pushed my way through, I gradually reached a position +from whence I could see the veranda plainly, and also hear anything +that passed. Guido was sitting on the low chair I had just vacated, +leaning his head back against my wife's breast; he had reached up one +arm so that it encircled her neck, and drew her head down toward his. +In this half embrace they rested absolutely silent for some moments. +Suddenly Ferrari spoke: +</P> + +<P> +"You are very cruel, Nina! You actually made me think you admired that +rich old conte." +</P> + +<P> +She laughed. "So I do! He would be really handsome if he did not wear +those ugly spectacles. And his jewels are lovely. I wish he would give +me some more!" +</P> + +<P> +"And supposing he were to do so, would you care for him, Nina?" he +demanded, jealously. "Surely not. Besides, you have no idea how +conceited he is. He says he will never make love to a woman unless she +first makes love to him; what do you think of that?" +</P> + +<P> +She laughed again, more merrily than before. +</P> + +<P> +"Think! Why, that he is very original—charmingly so! Are you coming +in, Guido?" +</P> + +<P> +He rose, and standing erect, almost lifted her from her chair and +folded her in his arms. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, I AM coming in," he answered; "and I will have a hundred kisses +for every look and smile you bestowed on the conte! You little +coquette! You would flirt with your grandfather!" +</P> + +<P> +She rested against him with apparent tenderness, one hand playing with +the flower in his buttonhole, and then she said, with a slight accent +of fear in her voice— +</P> + +<P> +"Tell me, Guido, do you not think he is a little like—like FABIO? Is +there not a something in his manner that seems familiar?" +</P> + +<P> +"I confess I have fancied so once or twice," he returned, musingly; +"there is rather a disagreeable resemblance. But what of that? many men +are almost counterparts of each other. But I tell you what I think. I +am almost positive he is some long-lost relation of the family—Fabio's +uncle for all we know, who does not wish to declare his actual +relationship. He is a good old fellow enough, I believe, and is +certainly rich as Croesus; he will be a valuable friend to us both. +Come, sposina mia, it is time to go to rest." +</P> + +<P> +And they disappeared within the house, and shut the windows after them. +I immediately left my hiding-place, and resumed my way toward Naples. I +was satisfied they had no suspicion of the truth. After all, it was +absurd of me to fancy they might have, for people in general do not +imagine it possible for a buried man to come back to life again. The +game was in my own hands, and I now resolved to play it out with as +little delay as possible. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap16"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XVI. +</H3> + +<P> +Time flew swiftly on—a month, six weeks, passed, and during that short +space I had established myself in Naples as a great personage—great, +because of my wealth and the style in which I lived. No one in all the +numerous families of distinction that eagerly sought my acquaintance +cared whether I had intellect or intrinsic personal worth; it sufficed +to them that I kept a carriage and pair, an elegant and costly +equipage, softly lined with satin and drawn by two Arabian mares as +black as polished ebony. The value of my friendship was measured by the +luxuriousness of my box at the opera, and by the dainty fittings of my +yacht, a swift trim vessel furnished with every luxury, and having on +board a band of stringed instruments which discoursed sweet music when +the moon emptied her horn of silver radiance on the rippling water. In +a little while I knew everybody who was worth knowing in Naples; +everywhere my name was talked of, my doings were chronicled in the +fashionable newspapers; stories of my lavish generosity were repeated +from mouth to mouth, and the most highly colored reports of my immense +revenues were whispered with a kind of breathless awe at every cafe and +street corner. Tradesmen waylaid my reticent valet, Vincenzo, and gave +him douceurs in the hope he would obtain my custom for them—"tips" +which he pocketed in his usual reserved and discreet manner, but which +he was always honest enough to tell me of afterward. He would most +faithfully give me the name and address of this or that particular +tempter of his fidelity, always adding—"As to whether the rascal sells +good things or bad our Lady only knows, but truly he gave me thirty +francs to secure your excellency's good-will. Though for all that I +would not recommend him if your excellency knows of an honester man!" +</P> + +<P> +Among other distinctions which my wealth forced upon me, were the +lavish attentions of match-making mothers. The black spectacles which I +always wore, were not repulsive to these diplomatic dames—on the +contrary, some of them assured me they were most becoming, so anxious +were they to secure me as a son-in-law. Fair girls in their teens, +blushing and ingenuous, were artfully introduced to me—or, I SHOULD +say, thrust forward like slaves in a market for my inspection—though, +to do them justice, they were remarkably shrewd and sharp-witted for +their tender years. Young as they were, they were keenly alive to the +importance of making a good match—and no doubt the pretty innocents +laid many dainty schemes in their own minds for liberty and enjoyment +when one or the other of them should become the Countess Oliva and fool +the old black-spectacled husband to her heart's content. Needless to +say their plans were not destined to be fulfilled, though I rather +enjoyed studying the many devices they employed to fascinate me. What +pretty ogling glances I received!—what whispered admiration of my +"beautiful white hair! so distingue"—what tricks of manner, +alternating from grave to gay, from rippling mirth to witching languor! +Many an evening I sat at ease on board my yacht, watching with a +satirical inward amusement, one, perhaps two or three of these fair +schemers ransacking their youthful brains for new methods to entrap the +old millionaire, as they thought me, into the matrimonial net. I used +to see their eyes—sparkling with light in the sunshine—grow liquid +and dreamy in the mellow radiance of the October moon, and turn upon me +with a vague wistfulness most lovely to behold, and—most admirably +feigned! I could lay my hand on a bare round white arm and not be +repulsed—I could hold little clinging fingers in my own as long as I +liked without giving offense such are some of the privileges of wealth! +</P> + +<P> +In all the parties of pleasure I formed, and these were many—my wife +and Ferrari were included as a matter of course. At first Nina +demurred, with some plaintive excuse concerning her "recent terrible +bereavement," but I easily persuaded her out of this. I even told some +ladies I knew to visit her and add their entreaties to mine, as I said, +with the benignant air of an elderly man, that it was not good for one +so young to waste her time and injure her health by useless grieving. +She saw the force of this, I must admit, with admirable readiness, and +speedily yielded to the united invitations she received, though always +with a well-acted reluctance, and saying that she did so merely +"because the Count Oliva was such an old friend of the family and knew +my poor dear husband as a child." +</P> + +<P> +On Ferrari I heaped all manner of benefits. Certain debts of his +contracted at play I paid privately to surprise him—his gratitude was +extreme. I humored him in many of his small extravagances—I played +with his follies as an angler plays the fish at the end of his line, +and I succeeded in winning his confidence. Not that I ever could +surprise him into a confession of his guilty amour—but he kept me well +informed as to what he was pleased to call "the progress of his +attachment," and supplied me with many small details which, while they +fired my blood and brain to wrath, steadied me more surely in my plan +of vengeance. Little did he dream in whom he was trusting!—little did +he know into whose hands he was playing! Sometimes a kind of awful +astonishment would come over me as I listened to his trivial talk, and +heard him make plans for a future that was never to be. He seemed so +certain of his happiness—so absolutely sure that nothing could or +would intervene to mar it. Traitor as he was he was unable to foresee +punishment—materialist to the heart's core, he had no knowledge of the +divine law of compensation. Now and then a dangerous impulse stirred +me—a desire to say to him point-blank: +</P> + +<P> +"You are a condemned criminal—a doomed man on the brink of the grave. +Leave this light converse and frivolous jesting—and, while there is +time, prepare for death!" +</P> + +<P> +But I bit my lips and kept stern silence. Often, too, I felt disposed +to seize him by the throat, and, declaring my identity, accuse him of +his treachery to his face, but I always remembered and controlled +myself. One point in his character I knew well—I had known it of +old—this was his excessive love of good wine. I aided and abetted him +in this weakness, and whenever he visited me I took care that he should +have his choice of the finest vintages. Often after a convivial evening +spent in my apartments with a few other young men of his class and +caliber, he reeled out of my presence, his deeply flushed face and +thick voice bearing plain testimony as to his condition. On these +occasions I used to consider with a sort of fierce humor how Nina would +receive him—for though she saw no offense in the one kind of vice she +herself practiced, she had a particular horror of vulgarity in any +form, and drunkenness was one of those low failings she specially +abhorred. +</P> + +<P> +"Go to your lady-love, mon beau Silenus!" I would think, as I watched +him leaving my hotel with a couple of his boon companions, staggering +and laughing loudly as he went, or singing the last questionable +street-song of the Neapolitan bas-peuple. "You are in a would-be +riotous and savage mood—her finer animal instincts will revolt from +you, as a lithe gazelle would fly from the hideous gambols of a +rhinoceros. She is already afraid of you—in a little while she will +look upon you with loathing and disgust—tant pis pour vous, tant mieux +pour moi!" +</P> + +<P> +I had of course attained the position of ami intime at the Villa +Romani. I was welcome there at any hour—I could examine and read my +own books in my own library at leisure (what a privilege was mine); I +could saunter freely through the beautiful gardens accompanied by +Wyvis, who attended me as a matter of course; in short, the house was +almost at my disposal, though I never passed a night under its roof. I +carefully kept up my character as a prematurely elderly man, slightly +invalided by a long and ardous career in far-off foreign lands, and I +was particularly prudent in my behavior toward my wife before Ferrari. +Never did I permit the least word or action on my part that could +arouse his jealousy or suspicion. I treated her with a sort of parental +kindness and reserve, but she—trust a woman for intrigue!—she was +quick to perceive my reasons for so doing. Directly Ferrari's back was +turned she would look at me with a glance of coquettish intelligence, +and smile—a little mocking, half-petulant smile—or she would utter +some disparaging remark about him, combining with it a covert +compliment to me. It was not for me to betray her secrets—I saw no +occasion to tell Ferrari that nearly every morning she sent her maid to +my hotel with fruit and flowers and inquiries after my health—nor was +my valet Vincenzo the man to say that he carried gifts and similar +messages from me to her. But at the commencement of November things +were so far advanced that I was in the unusual position of being +secretly courted by my own wife!—I reciprocating her attentions with +equal secrecy! The fact of my being often in the company of other +ladies piqued her vanity—she knew that I was considered a desirable +parti—and—she resolved to win me. In this case I also resolved—to be +won! A grim courtship truly—between a dead man and his own widow! +Ferrari never suspected what was going on; he had spoken of me as "that +poor fool Fabio, he was too easily duped;" yet never was there one more +"easily duped" than himself, or to whom the epithet "poor fool" more +thoroughly applied. As I said before, he was SURE—too sure of his own +good fortune. I wished to excite his distrust and enmity sometimes, but +this I found I could not do. He trusted me—yes! as much as in the old +days I had trusted HIM. Therefore, the catastrophe for him must be +sudden as well as fatal—perhaps, after all, it was better so. +</P> + +<P> +During my frequent visits to the villa I saw much of my child Stella. +She became passionately attached to me—poor little thing!—her love +was a mere natural instinct, had she but known it. Often, too, her +nurse, Assunta, would bring her to my hotel to pass an hour or so with +me. This was a great treat to her, and her delight reached its climax +when I took her on my knee and told her a fairy story—her favorite one +being that of a good little girl whose papa suddenly went away, and how +the little girl grieved for him till at last some kind fairies helped +her to find him again. I was at first somewhat afraid of old +Assunta—she had been MY nurse—was it possible that she would not +recognize me? The first time I met her in my new character I almost +held my breath in a sort of suspense—but the good old woman was nearly +blind, and I think she could scarce make out my lineaments. She was of +an entirely different nature to Giacomo the butler—she thoroughly +believed her master to be dead, as indeed she had every reason to do, +but strange to say, Giacomo did not. The old man had a fanatical notion +that his "young lord" could not have died so suddenly, and he grew so +obstinate on the point that my wife declared he must be going crazy. +Assunta, on the other hand, would talk volubly of my death and tell me +with assured earnestness: +</P> + +<P> +"It was to be expected, eccellenza—he was too good for us, and the +saints took him. Of course our Lady wanted him—she always picks out +the best among us. The poor Giacomo will not listen to me, he grows +weak and childish, and he loved the master too well—better," and here +her voice would deepen into reproachful solemnity, "yes, better +actually than St. Joseph himself! And of course one is punished for +such a thing. I always knew my master would die young—he was too +gentle as a baby, and too kind-hearted as a man to stay here long." +</P> + +<P> +And she would shake her gray head and feel for the beads of her rosary, +and mutter many an Ave for the repose of my soul. Much as I wished it, +I could never get her to talk about her mistress—it was the one +subject on which she was invariably silent. On one occasion when I +spoke with apparent enthusiasm of the beauty and accomplishments of the +young countess, she glanced at me with sudden and earnest +scrutiny—sighed—but said nothing. I was glad to see how thoroughly +devoted she was to Stella, and the child returned her affection with +interest—though as the November days came on apaces my little one +looked far from strong. She paled and grew thin, her eyes looked +preternaturally large and solemn, and she was very easily wearied. I +called Assunta's attention to these signs of ill-health; she replied +that she had spoken to the countess, but that "madam" had taken no +notice of the child's weakly condition. Afterward I mentioned the +matter myself to Nina, who merely smiled gratefully up in my face and +answered: +</P> + +<P> +"Really, my dear conte, you are too good! There is nothing the matter +with Stella, her health is excellent; she eats too many bonbons, +perhaps, and is growing rather fast, that is all. How kind you are to +think of her! But, I assure you, she is quite well." +</P> + +<P> +I did not feel so sure of this, yet I was obliged to conceal my +anxiety, as overmuch concern about the child would not have been in +keeping with my assumed character. +</P> + +<P> +It was a little past the middle of November, when a circumstance +occurred that gave impetus to my plans, and hurried them to full +fruition. The days were growing chilly and sad even in Naples—yachting +excursions were over, and I was beginning to organize a few dinners and +balls for the approaching winter season, when one afternoon Ferrari +entered my room unannounced and threw himself into the nearest chair +with an impatient exclamation, and a vexed expression of countenance. +</P> + +<P> +"What is the matter?" I asked, carelessly, as I caught a furtive glance +of his eyes. "Anything financial? Pray draw upon me! I will be a most +accommodating banker!" +</P> + +<P> +He smiled uneasily though gratefully. +</P> + +<P> +"Thanks, conte—but it is nothing of that sort—it is—gran Dio! what +an unlucky wretch I am!" +</P> + +<P> +"I hope," and here I put on an expression of the deepest anxiety, "I +hope the pretty contessa has not played you false? she has refused to +marry you?" +</P> + +<P> +He laughed with a disdainful triumph in his laughter. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, as far as that goes there is no danger! She dares not play me +false." +</P> + +<P> +"DARES not! That is rather a strong expression, my friend!" And I +stroked my beard and looked at him steadily. He himself seemed to think +he had spoken too openly and hastily—for he reddened as he said with a +little embarrassment: +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I did not mean that exactly—of course she is perfectly free to +do as she likes—but she cannot, I think, refuse me after showing me so +much encouragement." +</P> + +<P> +I waved my hand with an airy gesture of amicable agreement. +</P> + +<P> +"Certainly not," I said, "unless she be an arrant coquette and +therefore a worthless woman, and you, who know so well her intrinsic +goodness and purity, have no reason to fear. But, if not love or money, +what is it that troubles you? It must be serious, to judge from your +face." +</P> + +<P> +He played absently with a ring I had given him, turning it round and +round upon his finger many times before replying. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, the fact is," he said at last, "I am compelled to go away—to +leave Naples for a time." +</P> + +<P> +My heart gave an expectant throb of satisfaction. Going away!—leaving +Naples!—turning away from the field of battle and allowing me to gain +the victory! Fortune surely favored me. But I answered with feigned +concern: +</P> + +<P> +"Going away! Surely you cannot mean it. Why?—what for? and where?" +</P> + +<P> +"An uncle of mine is dying in Rome," he answered, crossly. "He has made +me his heir, and I am bound for the sake of decency to attend his last +moments. Rather protracted last moments they threaten to be too, but +the lawyers say I had better be present, as the old man may take it +into his head to disinherit me at the final gasp. I suppose I shall not +be absent long—a fortnight at most—and in the meanwhile—" +</P> + +<P> +Here he hesitated and looked at me anxiously. +</P> + +<P> +"Continue, caro mio, continue!" I said with some impatience. "If I can +do anything in your absence, you have only to command me." +</P> + +<P> +He rose from his chair, and approaching the window where I sat in a +half-reclining position, he drew a small chair opposite mine, and +sitting down, laid one hand confidingly on my wrist. +</P> + +<P> +"You can do much!" he replied, earnestly, "and I feel that I can +thoroughly depend upon you. Watch over HER! She will have no other +protector, and she is so beautiful and careless! You can guard +her—your age, your rank and position, the fact of your being an old +friend of the family—all these things warrant your censorship and +vigilance over her, and you can prevent any other man from intruding +himself upon her notice—" +</P> + +<P> +"If he does," I exclaimed, starting up from my seat with a mock tragic +air, "I will not rest till his body serves my sword as a sheath!" +</P> + +<P> +And I laughed loudly, clapping him on the shoulder as I spoke. The +words were the very same he had himself uttered when I had witnessed +his interview with my wife in the avenue. He seemed to find something +familiar in the phrase, for he looked confused and puzzled. Seeing +this, I hastened to turn the current of his reflections. Stopping +abruptly in my mirth, I assumed a serious gravity of demeanor, and said: +</P> + +<P> +"Nay, nay! I see the subject is too sacred to be jested with—pardon my +levity! I assure you, my good Ferrari, I will watch over the lady with +the jealous scrutiny of a BROTHER—an elderly brother too, and +therefore one more likely to be a model of propriety. Though I frankly +admit it is a task I am not specially fitted for, and one that is +rather distasteful to me, still, I would do much to please you, and +enable you to leave Naples with an easy mind I promise you"—here I +took his hand and shook it warmly—"that I will be worthy of your trust +and true to it, with exactly the same fine loyalty and fidelity you +yourself so nobly showed to your dead friend Fabio! History cannot +furnish me with a better example!" +</P> + +<P> +He started as if he had been stung, and every drop of blood receded +from his face, leaving it almost livid. He turned his eyes in a kind of +wondering doubt upon me, but I counterfeited an air of such good faith +and frankness, that he checked some hasty utterance that rose to his +lips, and mastering himself by a strong effort, said, briefly: +</P> + +<P> +"I thank you! I know I can rely upon your honor." +</P> + +<P> +"You can!" I answered, decisively—"as positively as you rely upon your +own!" Again he winced, as though whipped smartly by an invisible lash. +Releasing his hand, I asked, in a tone of affected regret, +</P> + +<P> +"And when must you leave us, carino?" +</P> + +<P> +"Most unhappily, at once," he answered "I start by the early train +to-morrow morning." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I am glad I knew of this in time," I said, glancing at my +writing-table, which was strewn with unsent invitation cards, and +estimates from decorators and ball furnishers. "I shall not think of +starting any more gayeties till you return." +</P> + +<P> +He looked gratefully at me "Really? It is very kind of you, but I +should be sorry to interfere with any of your plans—" +</P> + +<P> +"Say no more about it, amico" I interrupted him lightly "Everything can +wait till you come back. Besides, I am sure you will prefer to think of +madama as living in some sort of seclusion during your enforced +absence—" +</P> + +<P> +"I should not like her to be dull!" he eagerly exclaimed. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, no!" I said, with a slight smile at his folly, as if +she—Nina—would permit herself to be dull! "I will take care of that. +Little distractions, such as a drive now and then, or a very quiet, +select musical evening! I understand—leave it all to me! But the +dances, dinners, and other diversions shall wait till your return." +</P> + +<P> +A delighted look flashed into his eyes. He was greatly flattered and +pleased. +</P> + +<P> +"You are uncommonly good to me, conte!" he said, earnestly. "I can +never thank you sufficiently." +</P> + +<P> +"I shall demand a proof of your gratitude some day," I answered. "And +now, had you not better be packing your portmanteau? To-morrow will +soon be here. I will come and see you off in the morning." +</P> + +<P> +Receiving this assurance as another testimony of my friendship, he left +me. I saw him no more that day; it was easy to guess where he was! With +my wife, of course!—no doubt binding her, by all the most sacred vows +he could think of or invent, to be true to him—as true as she had been +false to me. In fancy I could see him clasping her in his arms, and +kissing her many times in his passionate fervor, imploring her to think +of him faithfully, night and day, till he should again return to the +joy of her caresses! I smiled coldly, as this glowing picture came +before my imagination. Ay, Guido! kiss her and fondle her now to your +heart's content—it is for the last time! Never again will that +witching glance be turned to you in either fear or favor—never again +will that fair body nestle in your jealous embrace—never again will +your kisses burn on that curved sweet mouth; never, never again! Your +day is done—the last brief moments of your sin's enjoyment have +come—make the most of them!—no one shall interfere! Drink the last +drop of sweet wine—MY hand shall not dash the cup from your lips on +this, the final night of your amour! Traitor, liar, and hypocrite! make +haste to be happy for the short time that yet remains to you—shut the +door close, lest the pure pale stars behold your love ecstasies! but +let the perfumed lamps shed their softest artificial luster on all that +radiant beauty which tempted your sensual soul to ruin, and of which +you are now permitted to take your last look! Let there be music +too—the music of her voice, which murmurs in your ear such entrancing +falsehoods! "She will be true," she says. You must believe her, Guido, +as I did—and, believing her thus, part from her as lingeringly and +tenderly as you will—part from her—FOREVER! +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap17"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XVII. +</H3> + +<P> +Next morning I kept my appointment and met Ferrari at the railway +station. He looked pale and haggard, though he brightened a little on +seeing me. He was curiously irritable and fussy with the porters +concerning his luggage, and argued with them about some petty trifles +as obstinately and pertinaciously as a deaf old woman. His nerves were +evidently jarred and unstrung, and it was a relief when he at last got +into his coupe. He carried a yellow paper-covered volume in his hand. I +asked him if it contained any amusing reading. +</P> + +<P> +"I really do not know," he answered, indifferently, "I have only just +bought it. It is by Victor Hugo." +</P> + +<P> +And he held up the title-page for me to see. +</P> + +<P> +"Le Dernier Jour d'un Condamne," I read aloud with careful slowness. +"Ah, indeed! You do well to read that. It is a very fine study!" +</P> + +<P> +The train was on the point of starting, when he leaned out of the +carriage window and beckoned me to approach more closely. +</P> + +<P> +"Remember!" he whispered, "I trust you to take care of her!" +</P> + +<P> +"Never fear!" I answered, "I will do my best to replace YOU!" +</P> + +<P> +He smiled a pale uneasy smile, and pressed my hand. These were our last +words, for with a warning shriek the train moved off, and in another +minute had rushed out of sight. I was alone—alone with perfect freedom +of action—I could do as I pleased with my wife now! I could even kill +her if I chose—no one would interfere. I could visit her that evening +and declare myself to her—could accuse her of her infidelity and stab +her to the heart! Any Italian jury would find "extenuating +circumstances" for me. But why? Why should I lay myself open to a +charge of murder, even for a just cause? No! my original design was +perfect, and I must keep to it and work it out with patience, though +patience was difficult. While I thus meditated, walking from the +station homeward, I was startled by the unexpected appearance of my +valet, who came upon me quite suddenly. He was out of breath with +running, and he carried a note for me marked "Immediate." It was from +my wife, and ran briefly thus: +</P> + +<P> +"Please come at once. Stella is very ill, and asks for you." +</P> + +<P> +"Who brought this?" I demanded, quickening my pace, and signing to +Vincenzo to keep beside me. +</P> + +<P> +"The old man, eccellenza—Giacomo. He was weeping and in great +trouble—he said the little donzella had the fever in her throat—it is +the diphtheria he means, I think. She was taken ill in the middle of +the night, but the nurse thought it was nothing serious. This morning +she has been getting worse, and is in danger." +</P> + +<P> +"A doctor has been sent for, of course?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, eccellenza. So Giacomo said. But—" +</P> + +<P> +"But WHAT?" I asked, quickly. +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing, eccellenza! Only the old man said the doctor had come too +late." +</P> + +<P> +My heart sunk heavily, and a sob rose in my throat. I stopped in my +rapid walk and bade Vincenzo call a carriage, one of the ordinary +vehicles that are everywhere standing about for hire in the principal +thoroughfares of Naples. I sprung into this and told the driver to take +me as quickly as possible to the Villa Romani, and adding to Vincenzo +that I should not return to the hotel all day, I was soon rattling +along the uphill road. On my arrival at the villa I found the gates +open, as though in expectation of my visit, and as I approached the +entrance door of the house, Giacomo himself met me. +</P> + +<P> +"How is the child?" I asked him eagerly. +</P> + +<P> +He made no reply, but shook his head gravely, and pointed to a kindly +looking man who was at that moment descending the stairs—a man whom I +instantly recognized as a celebrated English doctor resident in the +neighborhood. To him I repeated my inquiry—he beckoned me into a side +room and closed the door. +</P> + +<P> +"The fact is," he said, simply, "it is a case of gross neglect. The +child has evidently been in a weakly condition for some time past, and +therefore is an easy prey to any disease that may be lurking about. She +was naturally strong—I can see that—and had I been called in when the +symptoms first developed themselves, I could have cured her. The nurse +tells me she dared not enter the mother's room to disturb her after +midnight, otherwise she would have called her to see the child—it is +unfortunate, for now I can do nothing." +</P> + +<P> +I listened like one in a dream. Not even old Assunta dared to enter her +mistress's room after midnight—no! not though the child might be +seriously ill and suffering. I knew the reason well—too well! And so +while Ferrari had taken his fill of rapturous embraces and lingering +farewells, my little one had been allowed to struggle in pain and fever +without her mother's care or comfort. Not that such consolation would +have been much at its best, but I was fool enough to wish there had +been this one faint spark of womanhood left in her upon whom I had +wasted all the first and only love of my life. The doctor watched me as +I remained silent, and after a pause he spoke again. +</P> + +<P> +"The child has earnestly asked to see you," he said, "and I persuaded +the countess to send for you, though she was very reluctant to do so, +as she said you might catch the disease. Of course there is always a +risk—" +</P> + +<P> +"I am no coward, monsieur," I interrupted him, "though many of us +Italians prove but miserable panic-stricken wretches in time of +plague—the more especially when compared with the intrepidity and +pluck of Englishmen. Still there are exceptions—" +</P> + +<P> +The doctor smiled courteously and bowed. "Then I have no more to say, +except that it would be well for you to see my little patient at once. +I am compelled to be absent for half an hour, but at the expiration of +that time I will return." +</P> + +<P> +"Stay!" I said, laying a detaining hand on his arm. "Is there any hope?" +</P> + +<P> +He eyed me gravely. "I fear not." +</P> + +<P> +"Can nothing be done?" +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing—except to keep her as quiet and warm as possible. I have left +some medicine with the nurse which will alleviate the pain. I shall be +able to judge of her better when I return; the illness will have then +reached its crisis." In a couple of minutes more he had left the house, +and a young maid-servant showed me to the nursery. +</P> + +<P> +"Where is the contessa?" I asked in a whisper, as I trod softly up the +stairs. +</P> + +<P> +"The contessa?" said the girl, opening her eyes in astonishment. "In +her own bedroom, eccellenza—madama would not think of leaving it; +because of the danger of infection." I smothered a rough oath that +roses involuntarily to my lips. Another proof of the woman's utter +heartlessness, I thought! +</P> + +<P> +"Has she not seen her child?" +</P> + +<P> +"Since the illness? Oh, no, eccellenza!" +</P> + +<P> +Very gently and on tiptoe I entered the nursery. The blinds were +partially drawn as the strong light worried the child, and by the +little white bed sat Assunta, her brown face pale and almost rigid with +anxiety. At my approach she raised her eyes to mine, muttering softly: +</P> + +<P> +"It is always so. Our Lady will have the best of all, first the father, +then the child; it is right and just—only the bad are left." +</P> + +<P> +"Papa!" moaned a little voice feebly, and Stella sat up among her +tumbled pillows, with wide-opened wild eyes, feverish cheeks, and +parted lips through which the breath came in quick, uneasy gasps. +Shocked at the marks of intense suffering in her face, I put my arms +tenderly round her—she smiled faintly and tried to kiss me. I pressed +the poor parched little mouth and murmured, soothingly: +</P> + +<P> +"Stella must be patient and quiet—Stella must lie down, the pain will +be better so; there! that is right!" as the child sunk back on her bed +obediently, still keeping her gaze fixed upon me. I knelt at the +bedside, and watched her yearningly—while Assunta moistened her lips, +and did all she could to ease the pain endured so meekly by the poor +little thing whose breathing grew quicker and fainter with every tick +of the clock. "You are my papa, are you not?" she asked, a deeper flush +crossing her forehead and cheeks. I made no answer—I only kissed the +small hot hand I held. Assunta shook her head. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, poverinetta! The time is near—she sees her father. And why not? +He loved her well—he would come to fetch her for certain if the saints +would let him." +</P> + +<P> +And she fell on her knees and began to tell over her rosary with great +devotion. Meanwhile Stella threw one little arm round my neck—her eyes +were half shut—she spoke and breathed with increasing difficulty. +</P> + +<P> +"My throat aches so, papa!" she said, pitifully. "Can you not make it +better?" +</P> + +<P> +"I wish I could, my darling!" I murmured. "I would bear all the pain +for you if it were possible!" +</P> + +<P> +She was silent a minute. Then she said: +</P> + +<P> +"What a long time you have been away! And now I am too ill to play with +you!" Then a faint smile crossed her features. "See poor To-to!" she +exclaimed, feebly, as her eyes fell on a battered old doll in the +spangled dress of a carnival clown that lay at the foot of her bed. +"Poor dear old To-to! He will think I do not love him any more, because +my throat hurts me. Give him to me, papa!" +</P> + +<P> +And as I obeyed her request she encircled the doll with one arm, while +she still clung to me with the other, and added: +</P> + +<P> +"To-to remembers you, papa; you know you brought him from Rome, and he +is fond of you, too—but not as fond as I am!" And her dark eyes +glittered feverishly. Suddenly her glance fell on Assunta, whose gray +head was buried in her hands as she knelt. +</P> + +<P> +"Assunta!" +</P> + +<P> +The old woman looked up. +</P> + +<P> +"Bambinetta!" she answered, and her aged voice trembled. +</P> + +<P> +"Why are you crying?" inquired Stella with an air of plaintive +surprise. "Are you not glad to see papa?" +</P> + +<P> +Her words were interrupted by a sharp spasm of pain which convulsed her +whole body—she gasped for breath—she was nearly suffocated. Assunta +and I raised her up gently and supported her against her pillows; the +agony passed slowly, but left her little face white and rigid, while +large drops of sweat gathered on her brow. I endeavored to soothe her. +</P> + +<P> +"Darling, you must not talk," I whispered, imploringly; "try to be very +still—then the poor throat will not ache so much." +</P> + +<P> +She looked at me wistfully. After a minute or two she said, gently: +</P> + +<P> +"Kiss me, then, and I will be quite good." +</P> + +<P> +I kissed her fondly, and she closed her eyes. Ten, twenty, thirty +minutes passed and she did not stir. At the end of that time the doctor +entered. He glanced at her, gave me a warning look, and remained +standing quietly at the foot of the bed. Suddenly the child woke, and +smiled divinely on all three of us. +</P> + +<P> +"Are you in pain, my dear?" I softly asked. +</P> + +<P> +"No!" she answered in a tiny voice, so faint and far away that we held +our breath to listen to it; "I am quite well now. Assunta must dress me +in my white frock again now papa is here. I knew he would come back!" +</P> + +<P> +And she turned her eyes upon me with a look of bright intelligence. +</P> + +<P> +"Her brain wanders," said the doctor, in a low, pitying voice; "it will +soon be over." +</P> + +<P> +Stella did not hear him; she turned and nestled in my arms, asking in a +sort of babbling whisper: +</P> + +<P> +"You did not go away because I was naughty, did you, papa?" +</P> + +<P> +"No darling!" I answered, hiding my face in her curls. +</P> + +<P> +"Why do you have those ugly black things on?" she asked, in the +feeblest and most plaintive tone imaginable, so weak that I myself +could scarcely hear it; "has somebody hurt your eyes? Let me see your +eyes!" I hesitated. Dare I humor her in her fancy? I glanced up. The +doctor's head again was turned away, Assunta was on her knees, her face +buried in the bed-clothes, praying to her saints; quick as thought I +slipped my spectacles slightly down, and looked over them full at my +little one. She uttered a soft cry of delight—"Papa! papa!" and +stretched out her arms, then a strong and terrible shudder shook her +little frame. The doctor came closer—I replaced my glasses without my +action being noticed, and we both bent anxiously over the suffering +child. Her face paled and grew livid—she made another effort to +speak—her beautiful eyes rolled upward and became fixed—she +sighed—and sunk back on my shoulder—dying—dead! My poor little one! +A hard sob stifled itself in my throat—I clasped the small lifeless +body close in my embrace, and my tears fell hot and fast. There was a +long silence in the room—a deep, an awe-struck, reverent silence, +while the Angel of Death, noiselessly entering and departing, gathered +my little white rose for his Immortal garden of flowers. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap18"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XVIII. +</H3> + +<P> +After some little time the doctor's genial voice, slightly tremulous +from kindly emotion, roused me from my grief-stricken attitude. +</P> + +<P> +"Monsieur, permit me to persuade you to come away. Poor little child! +she is free from pain now. Her fancy that you were her father was a +fortunate delusion for her. It made her last moments happy. Pray come +with me—I can see this has been a shock to your feelings." +</P> + +<P> +Reverently I laid the fragile corpse back on the yet warm pillows. With +a fond touch I stroked the flaxen head; I closed the dark, upturned, +and glazing eyes—I kissed the waxen cheeks and lips, and folded the +tiny hands in an attitude of prayer. There was a grave smile on the +young dead face—a smile of superior wisdom and sweetness, majestic in +its simplicity. Assunta rose from her knees and laid her crucifix on +the little breast—the tears were running down her worn and withered +countenance. As she strove to wipe them away with her apron, she said +tremblingly:— +</P> + +<P> +"It must be told to madama." A frown came on the doctor's face. He was +evidently a true Britisher, decisive in his opinions, and frank enough +to declare them openly. "Yes," he said, curtly, "Madama, as you call +her, should have been here." +</P> + +<P> +"The little angel did not once ask for her," murmured Assunta. +</P> + +<P> +"True!" he answered. And again there was silence. We stood round the +small bed, looking at the empty casket that had held the lost +jewel—the flawless pearl of innocent childhood that had gone, +according to a graceful superstition, to ornament the festal robes of +the Madonna as she walked in all her majesty through heaven. A profound +grief was at my heart—mingled with a sense of mysterious and awful +satisfaction. I felt, not as though I had lost my child, but had rather +gained her to be more entirely mine than ever. She seemed nearer to me +dead than she had been when living. Who could say what her future might +have been? She would have grown to womanhood—what then? What is the +usual fate that falls to even the best woman? Sorrow, pain, and petty +worry, unsatisfied longings, incompleted aims, the disappointment of an +imperfect and fettered life—for say what you will to the contrary, +woman's inferiority to man, her physical weakness, her inability to +accomplish any great thing for the welfare of the world in which she +lives, will always make her more or less an object of pity. If good, +she needs all the tenderness, support, and chivalrous guidance of her +master, man—if bad, she merits what she receives, his pitiless disdain +and measureless contempt. From all dangers and griefs of the kind my +Stella had escaped—for her, sorrow no longer existed. I was glad of +it, I thought, as I watched Assunta shutting the blinds close, as a +signal to outsiders that death was in the house. At a sign from the +doctor I followed him out of the room—on the stairs he turned round +abruptly, and asked: +</P> + +<P> +"Will YOU tell the countess?" +</P> + +<P> +"I would rather be excused," I replied, decisively. "I am not at all in +the humor for a SCENE." +</P> + +<P> +"You think she will make a scene?" he said with an astonished uplifting +of his eyebrows. "I dare say you are right though! She is an excellent +actress." +</P> + +<P> +By this time we had reached the foot of the stairs. +</P> + +<P> +"She is very beautiful," I answered evasively. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, very! No doubt of that!" And here a strange frown contracted the +doctor's brow. "For my own taste, I prefer an ugly woman to SUCH +beauty." +</P> + +<P> +And with these words he left me, disappearing down the passage which +led to "madama's" boudoir. Left alone, I paced up and down the +drawing-room, gazing abstractedly on its costly fittings, its many +luxurious knickknacks and elegancies—most of which I had given to my +wife during the first few months of our marriage. By and by I heard the +sound of violent hysterical sobbing, accompanied by the noise of +hurrying footsteps and the rapid whisking about of female garments. In +a few moments the doctor entered with an expression of sardonic +amusement on his face. "Yes!" he said in reply to my look of inquiry, +"hysterics, lace handkerchiefs, eau-de-Cologne, and attempts at +fainting. All very well done! I have assured the lady there is no fear +of contagion, as under my orders everything will be thoroughly +disinfected. I shall go now. Oh, by the way, the countess requests that +you will wait here a few minutes—she has a message for you—she will +not detain you long. I should recommend you to get back to your hotel +as soon as you can, and take some good wine. A rivederci! Anything I +can do for you pray command me!" +</P> + +<P> +And with a cordial shake of the hand he left me, and I heard the street +door close behind him. Again I paced wearily up and down, wrapped in +sorrowful musings. I did not hear a stealthy tread on the carpet behind +me, so that when I turned round abruptly, I was startled to find myself +face to face with old Giacomo, who held out a note to me on a silver +salver, and who meanwhile peered at me with his eager eyes in so +inquisitive a manner that I felt almost uneasy. +</P> + +<P> +"And so the little angel is dead!" he murmured in a thin, quavering +voice. "Dead! Ay, that is a pity, a pity! But MY master is not +dead—no, no! I am not such an old fool as to believe that." +</P> + +<P> +I paid no heed to his rambling talk, but read the message Nina had sent +to me through him. +</P> + +<P> +"I am BROKEN-HEARTED!" so ran the delicately penciled lines. "Will you +kindly telegraph my DREADFUL loss to Signor Ferrari? I shall be much +obliged to you." I looked up from the perfumed missive and down at the +old butler's wrinkled visage; he was a short man and much bent, and +something in the downward glance I gave him evidently caught and +riveted his attention, for Tie clasped his hands together and muttered +something I could not hear. +</P> + +<P> +"Tell your mistress," I said, speaking slowly and harshly, "that I will +do as she wishes. That I am entirely at her service. Do you understand?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, yes! I understand!" faltered Giacomo, nervously, "My master never +thought me foolish—I could always understand him—" +</P> + +<P> +"Do you know, my friend," I observed, in a purposely cold and cutting +tone, "that I have heard somewhat too much about your master? The +subject is tiresome to me! Were your master alive, he would say you +were in your dotage! Take my message to the countess at once." +</P> + +<P> +The old man's face paled and his lips quivered—he made an attempt to +draw up his shrunken figure with a sort of dignity as he answered +"Eccellenza, my master would never speak to me so—never, never!" Then +his countenance fell, and he muttered, softly—"Though it is just—I am +a fool—I am mistaken—quite mistaken—there is no resemblance!" After +a little pause he added, humbly, "I will take your message, +eccellenza." And stooping more than ever, he shambled out of the room. +My heart smote me as he disappeared; I had spoken very harshly to the +poor old fellow—but I instinctively felt that it was necessary to do +so. His close and ceaseless examination of me—his timidity when he +approached me—the strange tremors he experienced when I addressed him, +were so many warnings to me to be on my guard with this devoted +domestic. Were he, by some unforeseen chance, to recognize me, my plans +would all be spoiled. I took my hat and left the house. As I crossed +the upper terrace, I saw a small round object lying in the grass—it +was Stella's ball that she used to throw for Wyvis to catch and bring +to her. I picked up the poor plaything tenderly and put it in my +pocket—and glancing up once more at the darkened nursery windows, I +waved a kiss of farewell to my little one lying there in her last +sleep. Then fiercely controlling all the weaker and softer emotions +that threatened to overwhelm me, I hurried away. On my road to the +hotel I stopped at the telegraph-office and dispatched the news of +Stella's death to Guido Ferrari in Rome. He would be surprised, I +thought, but certainly not grieved—the poor child had always been in +his way. Would he come back to Naples to console the now childless +widow? Not he!—he would know well that she stood in very small need of +consolation—and that she took Stella's death as she had taken mine—as +a blessing, and not a bereavement. On reaching my own rooms, I gave +orders to Vincenzo that I was not at home to any one who might +call—and I passed the rest of the day in absolute solitude. I had much +to think of. The last frail tie between my wife and myself had been +snapped asunder—the child, the one innocent link in the long chain of +falsehood and deception, no longer existed. Was I glad or sorry for +this? I asked myself the question a hundred times, and I admitted the +truth, though I trembled to realize it. I was GLAD—yes—GLAD! Glad +that my own child was dead! You call this inhuman perhaps? Why? She was +bound to have been miserable; she was now happy! +</P> + +<P> +The tragedy of her parents' lives could be enacted without imbittering +and darkening her young days, she was out of it all, and I rejoiced to +know it. For I was absolutely relentless; had my little Stella lived, +not even for her sake would I have relaxed in one detail of my +vengeance—nothing seemed to me so paramount as the necessity for +restoring my own self-respect and damaged honor. In England I know +these things are managed by the Divorce Court. Lawyers are paid +exorbitant fees, and the names of the guilty and innocent are dragged +through the revolting slums of the low London press. It may be an +excellent method—but it does not tend to elevate a man in his own +eyes, and it certainly does not do much to restore his lost dignity. It +has one advantage—it enables the criminal parties to have their way +without further interference—the wronged husband is set free—left out +in the cold—and laughed at by those who wronged him. An admirable +arrangement no doubt—but one that would not suit me. Chacun a son +gout! It would be curious to know in matters of this kind whether +divorced persons are really satisfied when they have got their +divorce—whether the amount of red tape and parchment expended in their +interest has done them good and really relieved their feelings. +Whether, for instance, the betrayed husband is glad to have got rid of +his unfaithful wife by throwing her (with the full authority and +permission of the law) into his rival's arms? I almost doubt it! I +heard of a strange case in England once. A man, moving in good society, +having more than suspicions of his wife's fidelity, divorced her—the +law pronounced her guilty. Some years afterward, he being free, met her +again, fell in love with her for the second time and remarried her. She +was (naturally!) delighted at his making such a fool of himself—for +henceforth, whatever she chose to do, he could not reasonably complain +without running the risk of being laughed at. So now the number and +variety of her lovers is notorious in the particular social circle +where she moves—while he, poor wretch, is perforce tongue-tied, and +dare not consider himself wronged. There is no more pitiable object in +the world than such a man—secretly derided and jeered at by his +fellows, he occupies an almost worse position than that of a galley +slave, while in his own esteem he has sunk so low that he dare not, +even in secret, try to fathom the depth to which he has fallen. Some +may assert that to be divorced is a social stigma. It used to be so +perhaps, but society has grown very lenient nowadays. Divorced women +hold their own in the best and most brilliant circles, and what is +strange is that they are very generally petted and pitied. +</P> + +<P> +"Poor thing!" says society, putting up its eyeglass to scan admiringly +the beautiful heroine of the latest aristocratic scandal—"she had such +a brute of a husband! No wonder she liked that DEAR Lord So-and-So! +Very wrong of her, of course, but she is so young! She was married at +sixteen—quite a child!—could not have known her own mind!" +</P> + +<P> +The husband alluded to might have been the best and most chivalrous of +men—anything but a "brute"—yet he always figures as such somehow, and +gets no sympathy. And, by the way, it is rather a notable fact that all +the beautiful, famous, or notorious women were "married at sixteen." +How is this managed? I can account for it in southern climates, where +girls are full-grown at sixteen and old at thirty—but I cannot +understand its being the case in England, where a "miss" of sixteen is +a most objectionable and awkward ingenue, without any of the "charms +wherewith to charm," and whose conversation is always vapid and silly +to the point of absolute exhaustion on the part of those who are forced +to listen to it. These sixteen-year-old marriages are, however, the +only explanation frisky English matrons can give for having such +alarmingly prolific families of tall sons and daughters, and it is a +happy and convenient excuse—one that provides a satisfactory reason +for the excessive painting of their faces and dyeing of their hair. +Being young (as they so nobly assert), they wish to look even younger. +A la bonne heure! If men cannot see through the delicate fiction, they +have only themselves to blame. As for me, I believe in the old, old, +apparently foolish legend of Adam and Eve's sin and the curse which +followed it—the curse on man is inevitably carried out to this day. +God said: +</P> + +<P> +"BECAUSE" (mark that BECAUSE!) "thou hast hearkened unto the voice of +thy wife" (or thy WOMAN, whoever she be), "and hast eaten of the tree +of which I commanded thee, saying, Thou shalt not eat of it" (the tree +or fruit being the evil suggested FIRST to man by woman), "cursed is +the ground for thy sake; in sorrow shalt thou eat of it all the days of +thy life!" +</P> + +<P> +True enough! The curse is upon all who trust woman too far—the sorrow +upon all who are beguiled by her witching flatteries. Of what avail her +poor excuse in the ancient story—"The serpent beguiled me and I did +eat!" Had she never listened she could not have been beguiled. The +weakness, the treachery, was in herself, and is there still. Through +everything the bitterness of it runs. The woman tempts—the man +yields—and the gate of Eden—the Eden of a clear conscience and an +untrammeled soul, is shut upon them. Forever and ever the Divine +denunciation re-echoes like muttering thunder through the clouds of +passing generations; forever and ever we unconsciously carry it out in +our own lives to its full extent till the heart grows sick and the +brain weary, and we long for the end of it all, which is death—death, +that mysterious silence and darkness at which we sometimes shudder, +wondering vaguely—Can it be worse than life? +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap19"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIX. +</H3> + +<P> +More than ten days had passed since Stella's death. Her mother had +asked me to see to the arrangements for the child's funeral, declaring +herself too ill to attend to anything. I was glad enough to accede to +her request, for I was thus able to avoid the Romani vault as a place +of interment. I could not bear to think of the little cherished body +being laid to molder in that terrific place where I had endured such +frantic horrors. Therefore, informing all whom it concerned that I +acted under the countess's orders, I chose a pretty spot in the open +ground of the cemetery, close to the tree where I had heard the +nightingale singing in my hour of supreme misery and suffering. Here my +little one was laid tenderly to rest in warm mother-earth, and I had +sweet violets and primroses planted thickly all about the place, while +on the simple white marble cross that marked the spot I had the words +engraved— +</P> + +<P> + "Una Stella svanita," [Footnote: A vanished star]<BR> +</P> + +<P> +adding the names of her parents and the date of her birth and death. +Since all this had been done I had visited my wife several times. She +was always at home to me, though of course, for decency's sake, in +consequence of the child's death, she denied herself to everybody else. +She looked lovelier than ever; the air of delicate languor she assumed +suited her as perfectly as its fragile whiteness suits a hot-house +lily. She knew the power of her own beauty most thoroughly, and +employed it in arduous efforts to fascinate me. But I had changed my +tactics; I paid very little heed to her, and never went to see her +unless she asked me very pressingly to do so. All compliments and +attentions from me to her had ceased. SHE courted me, and I accepted +her courtship in unresponsive silence. I played the part of a taciturn +and reserved man, who preferred reading some ancient and abstruse +treatise on metaphysics to even the charms of her society—and often, +when she urgently desired my company, I would sit in her drawing-room, +turning over the leaves of a book and feigning to be absorbed in it, +while she, from her velvet fauteuil, would look at me with a pretty +pensiveness made up half of respect, half of gentle admiration—a +capitally acted facial expression, by the bye, and one that would do +credit to Sarah Bernhardt. We had both heard from Guido Ferrari; his +letter to my wife I of course did not see; she had, however, told me he +was "much shocked and distressed to hear of Stella's death." The +epistle he addressed to me had a different tale to tell. In it he +wrote—"YOU can understand, my dear conte, that I am not much grieved +to hear of the death of Fabio's child. Had she lived, I confess her +presence would have been a perpetual reminder to me of things I prefer +to forget. She never liked me—she might have been a great source of +trouble and inconvenience; so, on the whole, I am glad she is out of +the way." +</P> + +<P> +Further on in the letter he informed me: +</P> + +<P> +"My uncle is at death's door, but though that door stands wide open for +him, he cannot make up his mind to go in. His hesitation will not be +allowed to last, so the doctors tell me—at any rate I fervently hope I +shall not be kept waiting too long, otherwise I shall return to Naples +and sacrifice my heritage, for I am restless and unhappy away from +Nina, though I know she is safely guarded by your protecting care." +</P> + +<P> +I read this particular paragraph to my wife, watching her closely as I +slowly enunciated the words contained in it. She listened, and a vivid +blush crimsoned her cheeks—a blush of indignation—and her brows +contracted in the vexed frown I knew so well. Her lips parted in a +half-sweet, half-chilly smile as she said, quietly: +</P> + +<P> +"I owe you my thanks, conte, for showing me to what extent Signor +Ferrari's impertinence may reach. I am surprised at his writing to you +in such a manner! The fact is, my late husband's attachment for him was +so extreme that he now presumes upon a supposed right that he has over +me—he fancies I am really his sister, and that he can tyrannize, as +brothers sometimes do! I really regret I have been so patient with +him—I have allowed him too much liberty." +</P> + +<P> +True enough! I thought and smiled bitterly. I was now in the heat of +the game—the moves must be played quickly—there was no more time for +hesitation or reflection. +</P> + +<P> +"I think, madam," I said, deliberately, as I folded Guido's letter and +replaced it in my pocket-book, "Signor Ferrari ardently aspires to be +something more than a brother to you at no very distant date." +</P> + +<P> +Oh, the splendid hypocrisy of women! No wonder they make such excellent +puppets on the theatrical stage—acting is their natural existence, +sham their breath of life! This creature showed no sign of +embarrassment—she raised her eyes frankly to mine in apparent +surprise—then she gave a little low laugh of disdain. +</P> + +<P> +"Indeed!" she said. "Then I fear Signor Ferrari is doomed to have his +aspirations disappointed! My dear conte," and here she rose and swept +softly across the room toward me with that graceful gliding step that +somehow always reminded me of the approach of a panther, "do you really +mean to tell me that his audacity has reached such a height +that—really it is TOO absurd!—that he hopes to marry me?" And sinking +into a chair near mine she looked at me in calm inquiry. Lost in +amazement at the duplicity of the Vroman, I answered, briefly: +</P> + +<P> +"I believe so! He intimated as much to me." She smiled scornfully. +</P> + +<P> +"I am too much honored! And did you, conte, think for a moment that +such an arrangement would meet with my approval?" +</P> + +<P> +I was silent. My brain was confused—I found it difficult to meet with +and confront such treachery as this. What! Had she no conscience? Were +all the passionate embraces, the lingering kisses, the vows of +fidelity, and words of caressing endearment as naught? Were they all +blotted from her memory as the writing on a slate is wiped out by a +sponge! Almost I pitied Guido! His fate, in her hands, was evidently to +be the same as mine had been; yet after all, why should I be surprised? +why should I pity? Had I not calculated it all? and was it not part of +my vengeance? +</P> + +<P> +"Tell me!" pursued my wife's dulcet voice, breaking in upon my +reflections, "did you really imagine Signer Ferrari's suit might meet +with favor at my hands?" +</P> + +<P> +I must speak—the comedy had to be played out. So I answered, bluntly: +</P> + +<P> +"Madam, I certainly did think so. It seemed a natural conclusion to +draw from the course of events. He is young, undeniably handsome, and +on his uncle's death will be fairly wealthy—what more could you +desire? besides, he was your husband's friend—" +</P> + +<P> +"And for that reason I would never marry him!" she interrupted me with +a decided gesture. "Even if I liked him sufficiently, which I do not" +(oh, miserable traitress), "I would not run the risk of what the world +would say of such a marriage." +</P> + +<P> +"How, madam? Pardon me if I fail to comprehend you." +</P> + +<P> +"Do you not see, conte?" she went on in a coaxing voice, as of one that +begged to be believed, "if I were to marry one that was known to have +been my husband's most intimate friend, society is so wicked—people +would be sure to say that there had been something between us before my +husband's death—I KNOW they would, and I could not endure such +slander!" +</P> + +<P> +"Murder will out" they say! Here was guilt partially declaring itself. +A perfectly innocent woman could not foresee so readily the +condemnation of society. Not having the knowledge of evil she would be +unable to calculate the consequences. The overprudish woman betrays +herself; the fine lady who virtuously shudders at the sight of a nude +statue or picture, announces at once to all whom it may concern that +there is something far coarser in the suggestions of her own mind than +the work of art she condemns. Absolute purity has no fear of social +slander; it knows its own value, and that it must conquer in the end. +My wife—alas! that I should call her so—was innately vicious and +false; yet how particular she was in her efforts to secure the blind +world's good opinion! Poor old world! how exquisitely it is fooled, and +how good-naturedly it accepts its fooling! But I had to answer the fair +liar, whose net of graceful deceptions was now spread to entrap me, +therefore I said with an effort of courtesy: +</P> + +<P> +"No one would dare to slander you, contessa, in my presence." She bowed +and smiled prettily. "But," I went on, "if it is true that you have no +liking for Signer Ferrari—" +</P> + +<P> +"It is true!" she exclaimed with sudden emphasis. "He is rough and +ill-mannered; I have seen him the worse for wine, sometimes he is +insufferable! I am afraid of him!" +</P> + +<P> +I glanced at her quietly. Her face had paled, and her hands, which were +busied with some silken embroidery, trembled a little. +</P> + +<P> +"In that case," I continued, slowly, "though I am sorry for Ferrari, +poor fellow! he will be immensely disappointed! I confess I am glad in +other respects, because—" +</P> + +<P> +"Because what?" she demanded, eagerly. "Why," I answered, feigning a +little embarrassment, "because there will be more chance for other men +who may seek to possess the hand of the accomplished and beautiful +Contessa Romani." +</P> + +<P> +She shook her fair head slightly. A transient expression of +disappointment passed over her features. +</P> + +<P> +"The 'other men' you speak of, conte, are not likely to indulge in such +an ambition," she said, with a faint sigh; "more especially," and her +eyes flashed indignantly, "since Signor Ferrari thinks it his duty to +mount guard over me. I suppose he wishes to keep me for himself—a most +impertinent and foolish notion! There is only one thing to do—I shall +leave Naples before he returns." +</P> + +<P> +"Why?" I asked. +</P> + +<P> +She flushed deeply. "I wish to avoid him," she said, after a little +pause; "I tell you frankly, he has lately given me much cause for +annoyance. I will not be persecuted by his attentions; and as I before +said to you, I am often afraid of him. Under YOUR protection I know I +am quite safe, but I cannot always enjoy that—" +</P> + +<P> +The moment had come. I advanced a step or two. +</P> + +<P> +"Why not?" I said. "It rests entirely with yourself." +</P> + +<P> +She started and half rose from her chair—her work dropped from her +hands. +</P> + +<P> +"What do you mean, conte?" she faltered, half timidly, yet anxiously; +"I do not understand!" +</P> + +<P> +"I mean what I say," I continued in cool hard tones, and stooping, I +picked up her work and restored it to her; "but pray do not excite +yourself! You say you cannot always enjoy my protection; it seems to me +that you can—by becoming my wife." +</P> + +<P> +"Conte!" she stammered. I held up my hand as a sign to her to be silent. +</P> + +<P> +"I am perfectly aware," I went on in business-like accents—"of the +disparity in years that exists between us. I have neither youth, +health, or good looks to recommend me to you. Trouble and bitter +disappointment have made me what I am. But I have wealth which is +almost inexhaustible—I have position and influence—and beside these +things"—and here I looked at her steadily, "I have an ardent desire to +do justice to your admirable qualities, and to give you all you +deserve. If you think you could be happy with me, speak frankly—I +cannot offer you the passionate adoration of a young man—my blood is +cold and my pulse is slow—but what I CAN do, I will!" +</P> + +<P> +Having spoken thus, I was silent—gazing at her intently. She paled and +flushed alternately, and seemed for a moment lost in thought—then a +sudden smile of triumph curved her mouth—she raised her large lovely +eyes to mine, with a look of melting and wistful tenderness. She laid +her needle-work gently down, and came close up to me—her fragrant +breath fell warm on my cheek—her strange gaze fascinated me, and a +sort of tremor shook my nerves. +</P> + +<P> +"You mean," she said, with a tender pathos in her voice—"that you are +willing to marry me, but that you do not really LOVE me?" +</P> + +<P> +And almost appealingly she laid her white hand on my shoulder—her +musical accents were low and thrilling—she sighed faintly. I was +silent—battling violently with the foolish desire that had sprung up +within me, the desire to draw this witching fragile thing to my heart, +to cover her lips with kisses—to startle her with the passion of my +embraces! But I forced the mad impulse down and stood mute. She watched +me—slowly she lifted her hand from where it had rested, and passed it +with a caressing touch through my hair. +</P> + +<P> +"No—you do not really LOVE me," she whispered—"but I will tell you +the truth—<I>I</I> LOVE YOU!" +</P> + +<P> +And she drew herself up to her full height and smiled again as she +uttered the lie. I knew it was a lie—but I seized the hand whose +caresses stung me, and held it hard, as I answered: +</P> + +<P> +"YOU love ME? No, no—I cannot believe it—it is impossible!" +</P> + +<P> +She laughed softly. "It is true though," she said, emphatically, "the +very first time I saw you I knew I should love you! I never even liked +my husband, and though in some things you resemble him, you are quite +different in others—and superior to him in every way. Believe it or +not as you like, you are the only man in all the world I have ever +loved!" +</P> + +<P> +And she made the assertion unblushingly, with an air of conscious pride +and virtue. Half stupefied at her manner, I asked: +</P> + +<P> +"Then you will be my wife?" +</P> + +<P> +"I will!" she answered—"and tell me—your name is Cesare, is it not?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," I said, mechanically. +</P> + +<P> +"Then, CESARE" she murmured, tenderly, "I will MAKE you love me very +much!" +</P> + +<P> +And with a quick lithe movement of her supple figure, she nestled +softly against me, and turned up her radiant glowing face. +</P> + +<P> +"Kiss me!" she said, and waited. As one in a whirling dream, I stooped +and kissed those false sweet lips! I would have more readily placed my +mouth upon that of a poisonous serpent! Yet that kiss roused a sort of +fury in me. I slipped my arms round her half-reclining figure, drew her +gently backward to the couch she had left, and sat down beside her, +still embracing her. "You really love me?" I asked almost fiercely. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes!" +</P> + +<P> +"And I am the first man whom you have really cared for? +</P> + +<P> +"You are!" +</P> + +<P> +"You never liked Ferrari?" +</P> + +<P> +"Never!" +</P> + +<P> +"Did he ever kiss you as I have done?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not once!" +</P> + +<P> +God! how the lies poured forth! a very cascade of them! and they were +all told with such an air of truth! I marveled at the ease and rapidity +with which they glided off this fair woman's tongue, feeling somewhat +the same sense of stupid astonishment a rustic exhibits when he sees +for the first time a conjurer drawing yards and yards of many-colored +ribbon out of his mouth. I took up the little hand on which the +wedding-ring <I>I</I> had placed there was still worn, and quietly slipped +upon the slim finger a circlet of magnificent rose-brilliants. I had +long carried this trinket about with me in expectation of the moment +that had now come. She started from my arms with an exclamation of +delight. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, Cesare! how lovely! How good you are to me!" +</P> + +<P> +And leaning toward me, she kissed me, then resting against my shoulder, +she held up her hand to admire the flash of the diamonds in the light. +Suddenly she said, with some anxiety in her tone: +</P> + +<P> +"You will not tell Guido? not yet?" +</P> + +<P> +"No," I answered; "I certainly will not tell him till he returns. +Otherwise he would leave Rome at once, and we do not want him back just +immediately, do we?" And I toyed with her rippling gold tresses half +mechanically, while I wondered within myself at the rapid success of my +scheme. She, in the meantime grew pensive and abstracted, and for a few +moments we were both silent. If she had known! I thought, if she could +have imagined that she was encircled by the arm of HER OWN HUSBAND, the +man whom she had duped and wronged, the poor fool she had mocked at and +despised, whose life had been an obstruction in her path, whose death +she had been glad of! Would she have smiled so sweetly? Would she have +kissed me then? +</P> + +<HR ALIGN="center" WIDTH="60%"> + +<P> +She remained leaning against me in a reposeful attitude for some +moments, ever and anon turning the ring I had given her round and round +upon her finger. By and by she looked up. +</P> + +<P> +"Will you do me one favor?" she asked, coaxingly; "such a little +thing—a trifle! but it would give me such pleasure!" +</P> + +<P> +"What is it?" I asked; "it is you to command and I to obey!" +</P> + +<P> +"Well, to take off those dark glasses just for a minute! I want to see +your eyes." +</P> + +<P> +I rose from the sofa quickly, and answered her with some coldness. +</P> + +<P> +"Ask anything you like but that, mia bella. The least light on my eyes +gives me the most acute pain—pain that irritates my nerves for hours +afterward. Be satisfied with me as I am for the present, though I +promise you your wish shall be gratified—" +</P> + +<P> +"When?" she interrupted me eagerly. I stooped and kissed her hand. +</P> + +<P> +"On the evening of our marriage day," I answered. +</P> + +<P> +She blushed and turned away her head coquettishly. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah! that is so long to wait!" she said, half pettishly. +</P> + +<P> +"Not very long, I HOPE," I observed, with meaning emphasis. "We are now +in November. May I ask you to make my suspense brief? to allow me to +fix our wedding for the second month of the new year?" +</P> + +<P> +"But my recent widowhood!—Stella's death!"—she objected faintly, +pressing a perfumed handkerchief gently to her eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"In February your husband will have been dead nearly six months," I +said, decisively; "it is quite a sufficient period of mourning for one +so young as yourself. And the loss of your child so increases the +loneliness of your situation, that it is natural, even necessary, that +you should secure a protector as soon as possible. Society will not +censure you, you may be sure—besides, <I>I</I> shall know how to silence +any gossip that savors of impertinence." +</P> + +<P> +A smile of conscious triumph parted her lips. +</P> + +<P> +"It shall be as you wish," she said, demurely; "if you, who are known +in Naples as one who is perfectly indifferent to women like now to +figure as an impatient lover. I shall not object!" +</P> + +<P> +And she gave me a quick glance of mischievous amusement from under the +languid lids of her dreamy dark eyes. I saw it, but answered, stiffly: +</P> + +<P> +"YOU are aware, contessa, and I am also aware that I am not a 'lover' +according to the accepted type, but that I am impatient I readily +admit." +</P> + +<P> +"And why?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Because," I replied, speaking slowly and emphatically; "I desire you +to be mine and mine only, to have you absolutely in my possession, and +to feel that no one can come between us, or interfere with my wishes +concerning you." +</P> + +<P> +She laughed gayly. "A la bonne heure! You ARE a lover without knowing +it! Your dignity will not allow you to believe that you are actually in +love with me, but in spite of yourself you ARE—you know you are!" +</P> + +<P> +I stood before her in almost somber silence. At last I said: "If YOU +say so, contessa, then it must be so. I have had no experience in +affairs of the heart, as they are called, and I find it difficult to +give a name to the feelings which possess me; I am only conscious of a +very strong wish to become the absolute master of your destiny." And +involuntarily I clinched my hand as I spoke. She did not observe the +action, but she answered the words with a graceful bend of the head and +a smile. +</P> + +<P> +"I could not have a better fortune," she said, "for I am sure my +destiny will be all brightness and beauty with YOU to control and guide +it!" +</P> + +<P> +"It will be what you desire," I half muttered; then with an abrupt +change of manner I said: "I will wish you goodnight, contessa. It grows +late, and my state of health compels me to retire to rest early." +</P> + +<P> +She rose from her seat and gave me a compassionate look. +</P> + +<P> +"You are really a great sufferer then?" she inquired tenderly. "I am +sorry! But perhaps careful nursing will quite restore you. I shall be +so proud if I can help you to secure better health." +</P> + +<P> +"Rest and happiness will no doubt do much for me," I answered, "still I +warn you, cara mia, that in accepting me as your husband you take a +broken-down man, one whose whims are legion and whose chronic state of +invalidism may in time prove to be a burden on your young life. Are you +sure your decision is a wise one?" +</P> + +<P> +"Quite sure!" she replied firmly. "Do I not LOVE you! And you will not +always be ailing—you look so strong." +</P> + +<P> +"I am strong to a certain extent," I said, unconsciously straightening +myself as I stood. "I have plenty of muscle as far as that goes, but my +nervous system is completely disorganized. I—why, what is the matter? +Are you ill?" +</P> + +<P> +For she had turned deathly pale, and her eyes look startled and +terrified. Thinking she would faint, I extended my arms to save her +from falling, but she put them aside with an alarmed yet appealing +gesture. +</P> + +<P> +"It is nothing," she murmured feebly, "a sudden giddiness—I +thought—no matter what! Tell me, are you not related to the Romani +family? When you drew yourself up just now you were so like—like +FABIO! I fancied," and she shuddered, "that I saw his ghost!" +</P> + +<P> +I supported her to a chair near the window, which I threw open for air, +though the evening was cold. +</P> + +<P> +"You are fatigued and overexcited," I said calmly, "your nature is too +imaginative. No; I am not related to the Romanis, though possibly I may +have some of their mannerisms. Many men are alike in these things. But +you must not give way to such fancies. Rest perfectly quiet, you will +soon recover." +</P> + +<P> +And pouring out a glass of water I handed it to her. She sipped it +slowly, leaning back in the fauteuil where I had placed her, and in +silence we both looked out on the November night. There was a moon, but +she was veiled by driving clouds, which ever and anon swept asunder to +show her gleaming pallidly white, like the restless spirit of a +deceived and murdered lady. A rising wind moaned dismally among the +fading creepers and rustled the heavy branches of a giant cypress that +stood on the lawn like a huge spectral mourner draped in black, +apparently waiting for a forest funeral. Now and then a few big drops +of rain fell-sudden tears wrung as though by force from the black heart +of the sky. My wife shivered. +</P> + +<P> +"Shut the window!" she said, glancing back at me where I stood behind +her chair. "I am much better now. I was very silly. I do not know what +came over me, but for the moment I felt afraid—horribly afraid!—of +YOU!" +</P> + +<P> +"That was not complimentary to your future husband," I remarked, +quietly, as I closed and fastened the window in obedience to her +request. "Should I not insist upon an apology?" +</P> + +<P> +She laughed nervously, and played with her ring of rose-brilliants. +</P> + +<P> +"It is not yet too late," I resumed, "if on second thoughts you would +rather not marry me, you have only to say so. I shall accept my fate +with equanimity, and shall not blame you." +</P> + +<P> +At this she seemed quite alarmed, and rising, laid her hand pleadingly +on my arm. +</P> + +<P> +"Surely you are not offended?" she said. "I was not really afraid of +you, you know—it was a stupid fancy—I cannot explain it. But I am +quite well now, and I am only TOO happy. Why, I would not lose your +love for all the world—you MUST believe me!" +</P> + +<P> +And she touched my hand caressingly with her lips. I withdrew it +gently, and stroked her hair with an almost parental tenderness; then I +said quietly: +</P> + +<P> +"If so, we are agreed, and all is well. Let me advise you to take a +long night's rest: your nerves are weak and somewhat shaken. You wish +me to keep our engagement secret?" +</P> + +<P> +She thought for a moment, then answered musingly: +</P> + +<P> +"For the present perhaps it would be best. Though," and she laughed, +"it would be delightful to see all the other women jealous and envious +of my good fortune! Still, if the news were told to any of our +friends—who knows?—it might accidentally reach Guido, and—" +</P> + +<P> +"I understand! You may rely upon my discretion. Good-night, contessa!" +</P> + +<P> +"You may call me Nina," she murmured, softly. +</P> + +<P> +"NINA, then," I said, with some effort, as I lightly kissed her. +"Good-night!—may your dreams be of me!" She responded to this with a +gratified smile, and as I left the room she waved her hand in a parting +salute. My diamonds flashed on it like a small circlet of fire; the +light shed through the rose-colored lamps that hung from the painted +ceiling fell full on her exquisite loveliness, softening it into +ethereal radiance and delicacy, and when I strode forth from the house +into the night air heavy with the threatening gloom of coming tempest, +the picture of that fair face and form flitted before me like a +mirage—the glitter of her hair flashed on my vision like little snakes +of fire—her lithe hands seemed to beckon me—her lips had left a +scorching heat on mine. Distracted with the thoughts that tortured me, +I walked on and on for hours. The storm broke at last; the rain poured +in torrents, but heedless of wind and weather, I wandered on like a +forsaken fugitive. I seemed to be the only human being left alive in a +world of wrath and darkness. The rush and roar of the blast, the angry +noise of waves breaking hurriedly on the shore, the swirling showers +that fell on my defenseless head—all these things were unfelt, unheard +by me. There are times in a man's life when mere physical feeling grows +numb under the pressure of intense mental agony-when the indignant +soul, smarting with the experience of some vile injustice, forgets for +a little its narrow and poor house of clay. Some such mood was upon me +then, I suppose, for in the very act of walking I was almost +unconscious of movement. An awful solitude seemed to encompass me—a +silence of my own creating. I fancied that even the angry elements +avoided me as I passed; that there was nothing, nothing in all the wide +universe but myself and a dark brooding horror called Vengeance. All +suddenly, the mists of my mind cleared; I moved no longer in a deaf, +blind stupor. A flash of lightning danced vividly before my eyes, +followed by a crashing peal of thunder, I saw to what end of a wild +journey I had come! Those heavy gates—that undefined stretch of +land—those ghostly glimmers of motionless white like spectral +mile-stones emerging from the gloom—I knew it all too well—it was the +cemetery! I looked through the iron palisades with the feverish +interest of one who watches the stage curtain rise on the last scene of +a tragedy. The lightning sprung once more across the sky, and showed me +for a brief second the distant marble outline of the Romani vault. +There the drama began—where would it end? Slowly, slowly there flitted +into my thoughts the face of my lost child—the young, serious face as +it had looked when the calm, preternaturally wise smile of Death had +rested upon it; and then a curious feeling of pity possessed me—pity +that her little body should be lying stiffly out there, not in the +vault, but under the wet sod, in such a relentless storm of rain. I +wanted to take her up from that cold couch—to carry her to some home +where there should be light and heat and laughter—to warm her to life +again within my arms; and as my brain played with these foolish +fancies, slow hot tears forced themselves into my eyes and scalded my +cheeks as they fell. These tears relieved me—gradually the tightly +strung tension of my nerves relaxed, and I recovered my usual composure +by degrees. Turning deliberately away from the beckoning grave-stones, +I walked back to the city through the thick of the storm, this time +with an assured step and a knowledge of where I was going. I did not +reach my hotel till past midnight, but this was not late for Naples, +and the curiosity of the fat French hall-porter was not so much excited +by the lateness of my arrival as by the disorder of my apparel. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, Heaven!" he cried; "that monsieur the distinguished should have +been in such a storm all unprotected! Why did not monsieur send for his +carriage?" I cut short his exclamations by dropping five francs into +his ever-ready hand, assuring him that I had thoroughly enjoyed the +novelty of a walk in bad weather, whereat he smiled and congratulated +me as much as he had just commiserated me. On reaching my own rooms, my +valet Vincenzo stared at my dripping and disheveled condition, but was +discreetly mute. He quickly assisted me to change my wet clothes for a +warm dressing-gown, and then brought a glass of mulled port wine, but +performed these duties with such an air of unbroken gravity that I was +inwardly amused while I admired the fellow's reticence. When I was +about to retire for the night, I tossed him a napoleon. He eyed it +musingly and inquiringly; then he asked: +</P> + +<P> +"Your excellency desires to purchase something?" +</P> + +<P> +"Your silence, my friend, that is all!" I replied, with a laugh. +"Understand me, Vincenzo, you will serve yourself and me best by +obeying implicitly, and asking no questions. Fortunate is the servant +who, accustomed to see his master drunk every night, swears to all +outsiders that he has never served so sober and discreet a gentleman! +That is your character, Vincenzo—keep to it, and we shall not +quarrel." He smiled gravely, and pocketed my piece of gold without a +word—like a true Tuscan as he was. The sentimental servant, whose fine +feelings will not allow him to accept an extra "tip," is, you may be +sure, a humbug. I never believed in such a one. Labor can always +command its price, and what so laborious in this age as to be honest? +What so difficult as to keep silence on other people's affairs? Such +herculean tasks deserve payment! A valet who is generously bribed, in +addition to his wages, can be relied on; if underpaid, all heaven and +earth will not persuade him to hold his tongue. Left alone at last in +my sleeping chamber, I remained for some time before actually going to +bed. I took off the black spectacles which served me so well, and +looked at myself in the mirror with some curiosity. I never permitted +Vincenzo to enter my bedroom at night, or before I was dressed in the +morning, lest he should surprise me without these appendages which were +my chief disguise, for in such a case I fancy even his studied +composure would have given way. For, disburdened of my smoke-colored +glasses, I appeared what I was, young and vigorous in spite of my white +beard and hair. My face, which had been worn and haggard at first, had +filled up and was healthily colored; while my eyes, the spokesmen of my +thoughts, were bright with the clearness and fire of constitutional +strength and physical well-being. I wondered, as I stared moodily at my +own reflection, how it was that I did not look ill. The mental +suffering I continually underwent, mingled though it was with a certain +gloomy satisfaction, should surely have left more indelible traces on +my countenance. Yet it has been proved that it is not always the +hollow-eyed, sallow and despairing-looking persons who are really in +sharp trouble—these are more often bilious or dyspeptic, and know no +more serious grief than the incapacity to gratify their appetites for +the high-flavored delicacies of the table. A man may be endowed with +superb physique, and a constitution that is in perfect working +order—his face and outward appearance may denote the most harmonious +action of the life principle within him—and yet his nerves may be so +finely strung that he may be capable of suffering acuter agony in his +mind than if his body were to be hacked slowly to pieces by jagged +knives, and it will leave no mark on his features while YOUTH still has +hold on his flesh and blood. +</P> + +<P> +So it was with me; and I wondered what SHE—Nina—would say, could she +behold me, unmasked as it were, in the solitude of my own room. This +thought roused another in my mind—another at which I smiled grimly. I +was an engaged man! Engaged to marry my own wife; betrothed for the +second time to the same woman! What a difference between this and my +first courtship of her! THEN, who so great a fool as I—who so adoring, +passionate and devoted! NOW, who so darkly instructed, who so cold, so +absolutely pitiless! The climax to my revenge was nearly reached. I +looked through the coming days as one looks through a telescope out to +sea, and I could watch the end approaching like a phantom ship—neither +slow nor fast, but steadily and silently. I was able to calculate each +event in its due order, and I knew there was no fear of failure in the +final result. Nature itself—the sun, moon and stars, the sweeping +circle of the seasons—all seem to aid in the cause of rightful +justice. Man's duplicity may succeed in withholding a truth for a time, +but in the end it must win its way. Once resolve, and then determine to +carry out that resolve, and it is astonishing to note with what +marvelous ease everything makes way for you, provided there be no +innate weakness in yourself which causes you to hesitate. I had +formerly been weak, I knew, very weak—else I had never been fooled by +wife and friend; but now, now my strength was as the strength of a +demon working within me. My hand had already closed with an iron grip +on two false unworthy lives, and had I not sworn "never to relax, never +to relent" till my vengeance was accomplished? I had! Heaven and earth +had borne witness to my vow, and now held me to its stern fulfillment. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap20"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XX. +</H3> + +<P> +Winter, or what the Neapolitans accept as winter, came on apace. For +some time past the air had been full of that mild chill and vaporous +murkiness, which, not cold enough to be bracing, sensibly lowered the +system and depressed the spirits. The careless and jovial temperament +of the people, however, was never much affected by the change of +seasons—they drank more hot coffee than usual, and kept their feet +warm by dancing from midnight up to the small hours of the morning. The +cholera was a thing of the past—the cleansing of the city, the +sanitary precautions, which had been so much talked about and +recommended in order to prevent another outbreak in the coming year, +were all forgotten and neglected, and the laughing populace tripped +lightly over the graves of its dead hundreds as though they were +odorous banks of flowers. "Oggi! Oggi!" is their cry—to-day, to-day! +Never mind what happened yesterday, or what will happen +to-morrow—leave that to i signori Santi and la Signora Madonna! And +after all there is a grain of reason in their folly, for many of the +bitterest miseries of man grow out of a fatal habit of looking back or +looking forward, and of never living actually in the full-faced +present. Then, too, Carnival was approaching; Carnival, which, though +denuded of many of its best and brightest features, still reels through +the streets of Naples with something of the picturesque madness that in +old times used to accompany its prototype, the Feast of Bacchus. I was +reminded of this coming festivity on the morning of the 21st of +December, when I noted some unusual attempts on the part of Vincenzo to +control his countenance, that often, in spite of his efforts, broadened +into a sunny smile as though some humorous thought had flitted across +his mind. He betrayed himself at last by asking me demurely whether I +purposed taking any part in the carnival? I smiled and shook my head. +Vincenzo looked dubious, but finally summoned up courage to say: +</P> + +<P> +"Will the eccellenza permit—" +</P> + +<P> +"You to make a fool of yourself?" I interrupted, "by all means! Take +your own time, enjoy the fun as much as you please; I promise you I +will ask no account of your actions." +</P> + +<P> +He was much gratified, and attended to me with even more +punctiliousness than usual. As he prepared my breakfast I asked him: +</P> + +<P> +"By the way, when does the carnival begin?" +</P> + +<P> +"On the 26th," he answered, with a slight air of surprise. "Surely the +eccellenza knows." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, yes," I said, impatiently. "I know, but I had forgotten. I am not +young enough to keep the dates of these follies in my memory. What +letters have you there?" +</P> + +<P> +He handed me a small tray full of different shaped missives, some from +fair ladies who "desired the honor of my company," others from +tradesmen, "praying the honor of my custom," all from male and female +toadies as usual, I thought contemptuously, as I turned them over, when +my glance was suddenly arrested by one special envelope, square in form +and heavily bordered with black, on which the postmark "Roma" stood out +distinctly. "At last!" I thought, and breathed heavily. I turned to my +valet, who was giving the final polish to my breakfast cup and saucer: +</P> + +<P> +"You may leave the room, Vincenzo," I said, briefly. He bowed, the door +opened and shut noiselessly—he was gone. +</P> + +<P> +Slowly I broke the seal of that fateful letter; a letter from Guido +Ferrari, a warrant self-signed, for his own execution! +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"My best friend," so it ran, "you will guess by the 'black flag' on my +envelope the good news I have to give you. My uncle is dead AT LAST, +thank God! and I am left his sole heir unconditionally. I am free, and +shall of course return to Naples immediately, that is, as soon as some +trifling law business has been got through with the executors. I +believe I can arrange my return for the 23d or 24th instant, but will +telegraph to you the exact day, and, if possible, the exact hour. Will +you oblige me by NOT announcing this to the countess, as I wish to take +her by surprise. Poor girl! she will have often felt lonely, I am sure, +and I want to see the first beautiful look of rapture and astonishment +in her eyes! You can understand this, can you not, amico, or does it +seem to you a folly? At any rate, I should consider it very churlish +were I to keep YOU in ignorance of my coming home, and I know you will +humor me in my desire that the news should be withheld from Nina, How +delighted she will be, and what a joyous carnival we will have this +winter! I do not think I ever felt more light of heart; perhaps it is +because I am so much heavier in pocket. I am glad of the money, as it +places me on a more equal footing with HER, and though all her letters +to me have been full of the utmost tenderness, still I feel she will +think even better of me, now I am in a position somewhat nearer to her +own. As for you, my good conte, on my return I shall make it my first +duty to pay back with interest the rather large debt I owe to you—thus +my honor will be satisfied, and you, I am sure, will have a better +opinion of +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"Yours to command, +<BR> +"GUIDO FERRARI." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +This was the letter, and I read it over and over again. Some of the +words burned themselves into my memory as though they were living +flame. "All her letters to me have been full of the utmost tenderness!" +Oh, miserable-dupe! fooled, fooled to the acme of folly even as I had +been! SHE, the arch-traitress, to prevent his entertaining the +slightest possible suspicion or jealousy of her actions during his +absence, had written him, no doubt, epistles sweet as honey brimming +over with endearing epithets and vows of constancy, even while she knew +she had accepted me as her husband—me—good God! What a devil's dance +of death it was! +</P> + +<P> +"On my return I shall make it my first duty to pay back with interest +the rather large debt I owe you" (rather large indeed, Guido, so large +that you have no idea of its extent!), "thus my honor will be +satisfied" (and so will mine in part), "and you, I am sure, will have a +better opinion of yours to command." Perhaps I shall, Guido—mine to +command as you are—perhaps when all my commands are fulfilled to the +bitter end, I may think more kindly of you. But not till then! In the +meantime—I thought earnestly for a few minutes, and then sitting down, +I penned the following note. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"Caro amico! Delighted to hear of your good fortune, and still more +enchanted to know you will soon enliven us all with your presence! I +admire your little plan of surprising the countess, and will respect +your wishes in the matter. But you, on your part, must do me a trifling +favor: we have been very dull since you left, and I purpose to start +the gayeties afresh by giving a dinner on the 24th (Christmas Eve), in +honor of your return—an epicurean repast for gentlemen only. +Therefore, I ask you to oblige me by fixing your return for that day, +and on arrival at Naples, come straight to me at this hotel, that I may +have the satisfaction of being the first to welcome you as you deserve. +Telegraph your answer and the hour of your train; and my carriage shall +meet you at the station. The dinner-hour can be fixed to suit your +convenience of course; what say you to eight o'clock? After dinner you +can betake yourself to the Villa Romani when you please—your enjoyment +of the lady's surprise and rapture will be the more keen for having +been slightly delayed. Trusting you will not refuse to gratify an old +man's whim, I am, +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"Yours for the time being, +<BR> +"CESARE OLIVA." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +This epistle finished and written in the crabbed disguised penmanship +it was part of my business to effect, I folded, sealed and addressed +it, and summoning Vincenzo, bade him post it immediately. As soon as he +had gone on this errand, I sat down to my as yet untasted breakfast and +made some effort to eat as usual. But my thoughts were too active for +appetite—I counted on my fingers the days—there were four, only four, +between me and—what? One thing was certain—I must see my wife, or +rather I should say my BETROTHED—I must see her that very day. I then +began to consider how my courtship had progressed since that evening +when she had declared she loved me. I had seen her frequently, though +not daily—her behavior had been by turns affectionate, adoring, timid, +gracious and once or twice passionately loving, though the latter +impulse in her I had always coldly checked. For though I could bear a +great deal, any outburst of sham sentiment on her part sickened and +filled me with such utter loathing that often when she was more than +usually tender I dreaded lest my pent-up wrath should break loose and +impel me to kill her swiftly and suddenly as one crushes the head of a +poisonous adder—an all-too-merciful death for such as she. I preferred +to woo her by gifts alone—and her hands were always ready to take +whatever I or others chose to offer her. From a rare jewel to a common +flower she never refused anything—her strongest passions were vanity +and avarice. Sparkling gems from the pilfered store of Carmelo +Neri-trinkets which I had especially designed for her—lace, rich +embroideries, bouquets of hot-house blossoms, gilded boxes of costly +sweets—nothing came amiss to her—she accepted all with a certain +covetous glee which she was at no pains to hide from me—nay, she made +it rather evident that she expected such things as her right. +</P> + +<P> +And after all, what did it matter to me—I thought—of what value was +anything I possessed save to assist me in carrying out the punishment I +had destined for her? I studied her nature with critical coldness—I +saw its inbred vice artfully concealed beneath the affectation of +virtue—every day she sunk lower in my eyes, and I wondered vaguely how +I could ever have loved so coarse and common a thing! Lovely she +certainly was—lovely too are many of the wretched outcasts who sell +themselves in the streets for gold, and who in spite of their criminal +trade are less vile than such a woman as the one I had wedded. Mere +beauty of face and form can be bought as easily as one buys a +flower—but the loyal heart, the pure soul, the lofty intelligence +which can make of woman an angel—these are unpurchasable ware, and +seldom fall to the lot of man. For beauty, though so perishable, is a +snare to us all—it maddens our blood in spite of ourselves—we men are +made so. How was it that I—even I, who now loathed the creature I had +once loved—could not look upon her physical loveliness without a +foolish thrill of passion awaking within me—passion that had something +of the murderous in it—admiration that was almost brutal—feelings +which I could not control though I despised myself for them while they +lasted! There is a weak point in the strongest of us, and wicked women +know well where we are most vulnerable. One dainty pin-prick +well-aimed—and all the barriers of caution and reserve are broken +down—we are ready to fling away our souls for a smile or a kiss. +Surely at the last day when we are judged—and may be condemned—we can +make our last excuse to the Creator in the word? of the first misguided +man: +</P> + +<P> +"The woman whom thou gavest to be with me—she tempted me, and I did +eat!" +</P> + +<P> +I lost no time that day in going to the Villa Romani. I drove there in +my carriage, taking with me the usual love-offering in the shape of a +large gilded osier-basket full of white violets. Their delicious odor +reminded me of that May morning when Stella was born—and then quickly +there flashed into my mind the words spoken by Guido Ferrari at the +time. How mysterious they had seemed to me then—how clear their +meaning now! On arriving at the villa I found my fiance in her own +boudoir, attired in morning deshabille, if a trailing robe of white +cashmere trimmed with Mechlin lace and swan's-down can be considered +deshabille. Her rich hair hung loosely on her shoulders, and she was +seated in a velvet easy-chair before a small sparkling wood fire, +reading. Her attitude was one of luxurious ease and grace, but she +sprung up as soon as her maid announced me, and came forward with her +usual charming air of welcome, in which there was something imperial, +as of a sovereign who receives a subject. I presented the flowers I had +brought, with a few words of studied and formal compliment, uttered for +the benefit of the servant who lingered in the room—then I added in a +lower tone: +</P> + +<P> +"I have news of importance—can I speak to you privately?" +</P> + +<P> +She smiled assent, and motioning me by a graceful gesture of her hand +to take a seat, she at once dismissed her maid. As soon as the door had +closed behind the girl I spoke at once and to the point, scarcely +waiting till my wife resumed her easy-chair before the fire. +</P> + +<P> +"I have had a letter from Signor Ferrari." +</P> + +<P> +She started slightly, but said nothing, she merely bowed her head and +raised her delicately arched eyebrows with a look of inquiry as of one +who should say, "Indeed! in what way does this concern me?" I watched +her narrowly, and then continued, "He is coming back in two or three +days—he says he is sure," and here I smiled, "that you will be +delighted to see him." +</P> + +<P> +This time she half rose from her seat, her lips moved as though she +would speak, but she remained silent, and sinking back again among her +violet velvet cushions, she grew very pale. +</P> + +<P> +"If," I went on, "you have any reason to think that he may make himself +disagreeable to you when he knows of your engagement to me, out of +disappointed ambition, conceit, or self-interest (for of course YOU +never encouraged him), I should advise you to go on a visit to some +friends for a few days, till his irritation shall have somewhat passed. +What say you to such a plan?" +</P> + +<P> +She appeared to meditate for a few moments—then raising her lovely +eyes with a wistful and submissive look, she replied: +</P> + +<P> +"It shall be as you wish, Cesare! Signor Ferrari is certainly rash and +hot-tempered, he might be presumptuous enough to—But you do not think +of yourself in the matter! Surely YOU also are in danger of being +insulted by him when he knows all?" +</P> + +<P> +"I shall be on my guard!" I said, quietly. "Besides, I can easily +pardon any outburst of temper on his part—it will be perfectly +natural, I think! To lose all hope of ever winning such a love as yours +must needs be a sore trial to one of his hot blood and fiery impulses. +Poor fellow!" and I sighed and shook my head with benevolent +gentleness. "By the way, he tells me he has had letters from you?" +</P> + +<P> +I put this question carelessly, but it took her by surprise. She caught +her breath hard and looked at me sharply, with an alarmed expression. +Seeing that my face was perfectly impassive, she recovered her +composure instantly, and answered: +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, yes! I have been compelled to write to him once or twice on +matters of business connected with my late husband's affairs. Most +unfortunately, Fabio made him one of the trustees of his fortune in +case of his death—it is exceedingly awkward for me that he should +occupy that position—it appears to give him some authority over my +actions. In reality he has none. He has no doubt exaggerated the number +of times I have written to him? it would be like his impertinence to do +so." +</P> + +<P> +Though this last remark was addressed to me almost as a question, I let +it pass without response. I reverted to my original theme. +</P> + +<P> +"What think you, then?" I said. "Will you remain here or will you +absent yourself for a few days?" +</P> + +<P> +She rose from her chair and approaching me, knelt down at my side, +clasping her two little hands round my arm. "With your permission," she +returned, softly, "I will go to the convent where I was educated. It is +some eight or ten miles distant from here, and I think" (here she +counterfeited the most wonderful expression of ingenuous sweetness and +piety)—"I think I should like to make a 'RETREAT'—that is, devote +some time solely to the duties of religion before I enter upon a second +marriage. The dear nuns would be so glad to see me—and I am sure you +will not object? It will be a good preparation for my future." +</P> + +<P> +I seized her caressing hands and held them hard, while I looked upon +her kneeling there like the white-robed figure of a praying saint. +</P> + +<P> +"It will indeed!" I said in a harsh voice. "The best of all possible +preparations! We none of us know what may happen—we cannot tell +whether life or death awaits us—it is wise to prepare for either by +words of penitence and devotion! I admire this beautiful spirit in you, +carina! Go to the convent by all means! I shall find you there and will +visit you when the wrath and bitterness of our friend Ferrari have been +smoothed into silence and resignation. Yes—go to the convent, among +the good and pious nuns—and when you pray for yourself, pray for the +peace of your dead husband's soul—and—for me! Such prayers, unselfish +and earnest, uttered by pure lips like yours, fly swiftly to heaven! +And as for young Guido—have no fear—I promise you he shall offend you +no more!" +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, you do not know him!" she murmured, lightly kissing my hands that +still held hers; "I fear he will give you a great deal of trouble." +</P> + +<P> +"I shall at any rate know how to silence him," I said, releasing her as +I spoke, and watching her as she rose from her kneeling position and +stood before me, supple and delicate as a white iris swaying in the +wind. "You never gave him reason to hope—therefore he has no cause of +complaint." +</P> + +<P> +"True!" she replied, readily, with an untroubled smile. "But I am such +a nervous creature! I am always imagining evils that never happen. And +now, Cesare, when do you wish me to go to the convent?" +</P> + +<P> +I shrugged my shoulders with an air of indifference. +</P> + +<P> +"Your submission to my will, mia bella" I said, coldly, "is altogether +charming, and flatters me much, but I am not your master—not yet! Pray +choose your own time, and suit your departure to your own pleasure." +</P> + +<P> +"Then," she replied, with an air of decision, "I will go today. The +sooner the better—for some instinct tells me that Guido will play us a +trick and return before we expect him. Yes—I will go to-day." +</P> + +<P> +I rose to take my leave. "Then you will require leisure to make your +preparations," I said, with ceremonious politeness. "I assure you I +approve your resolve. If you inform the superioress of the convent that +I am your betrothed husband, I suppose I shall be permitted to see you +when I call?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, certainly!" she replied. "The dear nuns will do anything for me. +Their order is one of perpetual adoration, and their rules are very +strict, but they do not apply them to their old pupils, and I am one of +their great favorites." +</P> + +<P> +"Naturally!" I observed. "And will you also join in the service of +perpetual adoration?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, yes!" +</P> + +<P> +"It needs an untainted soul like yours," I said, with a satirical +smile, which she did not see, "to pray before the unveiled Host without +being conscience-smitten! I envy you your privilege. <I>I</I> could not do +it—but YOU are probably nearer to the angels than we know. And so you +will pray for me?" +</P> + +<P> +She raised her eyes with devout gentleness. "I will indeed!" +</P> + +<P> +"I thank you!"—and I choked back the bitter contempt and disgust I had +for her hypocrisy as I spoke—"I thank you heartily—most heartily! +Addio!" +</P> + +<P> +She came or rather floated to my side, her white garments trailing +about her and the gold of her hair glittering in the mingled glow of +the firelight and the wintery sunbeams that shone through the window. +She looked up—a witch-like languor lay in her eyes—her red lips +pouted. +</P> + +<P> +"Not one kiss before you go?" she said. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap21"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXI. +</H3> + +<P> +FOR a moment I lost my self-possession. I scarcely remember now what I +did. I know I clasped her almost roughly in my arms—I know that I +kissed her passionately on lips, throat and brow—and that in the +fervor of my embraces, the thought of what manner of vile thing she was +came swiftly upon me, causing me to release her with such suddenness +that she caught at the back of a chair to save herself from falling. +Her breath came and went in little quick gasps of excitement, her face +was flushed—she looked astonished, yet certainly not displeased. No, +SHE was not angry, but I was—thoroughly annoyed—bitterly vexed with +myself, for being such a fool. +</P> + +<P> +"Forgive me," I muttered. "I forgot—I—" +</P> + +<P> +A little smile stole round the corners of her mouth. +</P> + +<P> +"You are fully pardoned!" she said, in a low voice, "you need not +apologize." +</P> + +<P> +Her smile deepened; suddenly she broke into a rippling laugh, sweet and +silvery as a bell—a laugh that went through me like a knife. Was it +not the self-same laughter that had pierced my brain the night I +witnessed her amorous interview with Guido in the avenue? Had not the +cruel mockery of it nearly driven me mad? I could not endure it—I +sprung to her side—she ceased laughing and looked at me in wide-eyed +wonderment. +</P> + +<P> +"Listen!" I said, in an impatient, almost fierce tone. "Do not laugh +like that! It jars my nerves—it—hurts me! I will tell you why. +Once—long ago—in my youth—I loved a woman. She was NOT like +you—no—for she was false! False to the very heart's core—false in +every word she uttered. You understand me? she resembled you in +nothing—nothing! But she used to laugh at me—she trampled on my life +and spoiled it—she broke my heart! It is all past now, I never think +of her, only your laughter reminded me—there!" And I took her hands +and kissed them. "I have told you the story of my early folly—forget +it and forgive me! It is time you prepared for your journey, is it not? +If I can be of service to you, command me—you know where to send for +me. Good-bye! and the peace of a pure conscience be with you!" +</P> + +<P> +And I laid my burning hand on her head weighted with its clustering +curls of gold. SHE thought this gesture was one of blessing. <I>I</I> +thought—God only knows what I thought—yet surely if curses can be so +bestowed, my curse crowned her at that moment! I dared not trust myself +longer in her presence, and without another word or look I left her and +hurried from the house. I knew she was startled and at the same time +gratified to think she could thus have moved me to any display of +emotion—but I would not even turn my head to catch her parting glance. +I could not—I was sick of myself and of her. I was literally torn +asunder between love and hatred—love born basely of material feeling +alone—hatred, the offspring of a deeply injured spirit for whose wrong +there could scarce be found sufficient remedy. Once out of the +influence of her bewildering beauty, my mind grew calmer—and the drive +back to the hotel in my carriage through the sweet dullness of the +December air quieted the feverish excitement of my blood and restored +me to myself. It was a most lovely day—bright and fresh, with the +savor of the sea in the wind. The waters of the bay were of a +steel-like blue shading into deep olive-green, and a soft haze lingered +about the shores of Amalfi like a veil of gray, shot through with +silver and gold. Down the streets went women in picturesque garb +carrying on their heads baskets full to the brim of purple violets that +scented the air as they passed—children ragged and dirty ran along, +pushing the luxuriant tangle of their dark locks away from their +beautiful wild antelope eyes, and, holding up bunches of roses and +narcissi with smiles as brilliant as the very sunshine, implored the +passengers to buy "for the sake of the little Gesu who was soon coming!" +</P> + +<P> +Bells clashed and clanged from the churches in honor of San Tommaso, +whose festival it was, and the city had that aspect of gala gayety +about it, which is in truth common enough to all continental towns, but +which seems strange to the solemn Londoner who sees so much apparently +reasonless merriment for the first time. He, accustomed to have his +reluctant laughter pumped out of him by an occasional visit to the +theater where he can witness the "original," English translation of a +French farce, cannot understand WHY these foolish Neapolitans should +laugh and sing and shout in the manner they do, merely because they are +glad to be alive. And after much dubious consideration, he decides +within himself that they are all rascals—the scum of the earth—and +that he and he only is the true representative of man at his best—the +model of civilized respectability. And a mournful spectacle he thus +seems to the eyes of us "base" foreigners—in our hearts we are sorry +for him and believe that if he could manage to shake off the fetters of +his insular customs and prejudices, he might almost succeed in enjoying +life as much as we do! +</P> + +<P> +As I drove along I saw a small crowd at one of the street corners—a +gesticulating, laughing crowd, listening to an "improvisatore" or +wandering poet—a plump-looking fellow who had all the rhymes of Italy +at his fingers' ends, and who could make a poem on any subject or an +acrostic on any name, with perfect facility. I stopped my carriage to +listen to his extemporized verses, many of which were really admirable, +and tossed him three francs. He threw them up in the air, one after the +other, and caught them, as they fell, in his mouth, appearing to have +swallowed them all—then with an inimitable grimace, he pulled off his +tattered cap and said: +</P> + +<P> +"Ancora affamato, excellenza!" (I am still hungry!) amid the renewed +laughter of his easily amused audience. A merry poet he was and without +conceit—and his good humor merited the extra silver pieces I gave him, +which caused him, to wish me—"Buon appetito e un sorriso della +Madonna!"—(a good appetite to you and a smile of the Madonna!) Imagine +the Lord Laureate of England standing at the corner of Regent Street +swallowing half-pence for his rhymes! Yet some of the quaint conceits +strung together by such a fellow as this improvisatore might furnish +material for many of the so called "poets" whose names are mysteriously +honored in Britain. +</P> + +<P> +Further on I came upon a group of red-capped coral fishers assembled +round a portable stove whereon roasting chestnuts cracked their glossy +sides and emitted savory odors. The men were singing gayly to the +thrumming of an old guitar, and the song they sung was familiar to me. +Stay! where had I heard it?—let me listen! +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + "Sciore limone<BR> + Le voglio far mori de passione<BR> + Zompa llari llira!"<BR> + [Footnote: Neapolitan dialect.]<BR> +</P> + +<P> +Ha! I remembered now. When I had crawled out of the vault through the +brigand's hole of entrance—when my heart had bounded with glad +anticipations never to be realized—when I had believed in the worth of +love and friendship—when I had seen the morning sun glittering on the +sea, and had thought—poor fool!—that his long beams were like so many +golden flags of joy hung up in heaven to symbolize the happiness of my +release from death and my restoration to liberty—then—then I had +heard a sailor's voice in the distance singing that "ritornello," and I +had fondly imagined its impassioned lines were all for me! Hateful +music—most bitter sweetness! I could have put my hands up to my ears +to shut out the sound of it now that I thought of the time when I had +heard it last! For then I had possessed a heart—a throbbing, +passionate, sensitive thing—alive to every emotion of tenderness and +affection—now that heart was dead and cold as a stone. Only its corpse +went with me everywhere, weighing me down with itself to the strange +grave it occupied, a grave wherein were also buried so many dear +delusions—such plaintive regrets, such pleading memories, that surely +it was no wonder their small ghosts arose and haunted me, saying, "Wilt +thou not weep for this lost sweetness?" "Wilt thou not relent before +such a remembrance?" or "Hast thou no desire for that past delight?" +But to all such inward temptations my soul was deaf and inexorable; +justice—stern, immutable justice was what I sought and what I meant to +have. +</P> + +<P> +May be you find it hard to understand the possibility of Scheming and +carrying out so prolonged a vengeance as mine? If you that read these +pages are English, I know it will seem to you well-nigh +incomprehensible. The temperate blood of the northerner, combined with +his open, unsuspicious nature, has, I admit, the advantage over us in +matters of personal injury. An Englishman, so I hear, is incapable of +nourishing a long and deadly resentment, even against an unfaithful +wife—he is too indifferent, he thinks it not worth his while. But we +Neapolitans, we can carry a "vendetta" through a life-time—ay, through +generation after generation! This is bad, you say—immoral, +unchristian. No doubt! We are more than half pagans at heart; we are as +our country and our traditions have made us. It will need another +visitation of Christ before we shall learn how to forgive those that +despitefully use us. Such a doctrine seems to us a mere play upon +words—a weak maxim only fit for children and priests. Besides, did +Christ himself forgive Judas? The gospel does not say so! +</P> + +<P> +When I reached my own apartments at the hotel I felt worn out and +fagged. I resolved to rest and receive no visitors that day. While +giving my orders to Vincenzo a thought occurred to me. I went to a +cabinet in the room and unlocked a secret drawer. In it lay a strong +leather case. I lifted this, and bade Vincenzo unstrap and open it. He +did so, nor showed the least sign of surprise when a pair of richly +ornamented pistols was displayed to his view. +</P> + +<P> +"Good weapons?" I remarked, in a casual manner. +</P> + +<P> +My vallet took each one out of the case, and examined them both +critically. +</P> + +<P> +"They need cleaning, eccellenza." +</P> + +<P> +"Good!" I said, briefly. "Then clean them and put them in good order. I +may require to use them." +</P> + +<P> +The imperturbable Vincenzo bowed, and taking the weapons, prepared to +leave the room. +</P> + +<P> +"Stay!" +</P> + +<P> +He turned. I looked at him steadily. +</P> + +<P> +"I believe you are a faithful fellow, Vincenzo," I said. +</P> + +<P> +He met my glance frankly. +</P> + +<P> +"The day may come," I went on, quietly, "when I shall perhaps put your +fidelity to the proof." +</P> + +<P> +The dark Tuscan eyes, keen and clear the moment before, flashed +brightly and then grew humid. +</P> + +<P> +"Eccellenza, you have only to command! I was a soldier once—I know +what duty means. But there is a better service—gratitude. I am your +poor servant, but you have won my heart. I would give my life for you +should you desire it!" +</P> + +<P> +He paused, half ashamed of the emotion that threatened to break through +his mask of impassibility, bowed again and would have left me, but that +I called him back and held out my hand. +</P> + +<P> +"Shake hands, amico" I said, simply. +</P> + +<P> +He caught it with an astonished yet pleased look—and stooping, kissed +it before I could prevent him, and this time literally scrambled out of +my presence with an entire oblivion of his usual dignity. Left alone, I +considered this behavior of his with half-pained surprise. This poor +fellow loved me it was evident—why, I knew not. I had done no more for +him than any other master might have done for a good servant. I had +often spoken to him with impatience, even harshness; and yet I had "won +his heart"—so he said. Why should he care for me? why should my poor +old butler Giacoma cherish me so devotedly in his memory; why should my +very dog still love and obey me, when my nearest and dearest, my wife +and my friend, had so gladly forsaken me, and were so eager to forget +me! Perhaps fidelity was not the fashion now among educated persons? +Perhaps it was a worn-out virtue, left to the bas-peuple—to the +vulgar—and to animals? Progress might have attained this result—no +doubt it had. +</P> + +<P> +I sighed wearily, and threw myself clown in an arm-chair near the +window, and watched the white-sailed boats skimming like flecks of +silver across the blue-green water. The tinkling of a tambourine by and +by attracted my wandering attention, and looking into the street just +below my balcony I saw a young girl dancing. She was lovely to look at, +and she danced with exquisite grace as well as modesty, but the beauty +of her face was not so much caused by perfection of feature or outline +as by a certain wistful expression that had in it something of nobility +and pride. I watched her; at the conclusion of her dance she held up +her tambourine with a bright but appealing smile. Silver and copper +were freely flung to her, I contributing my quota to the amount; but +all she received she at once emptied into a leathern bag which was +carried by a young and handsome man who accompanied her, and who, alas! +was totally blind. I knew the couple well, and had often seen them; +their history was pathetic enough. The girl had been betrothed to the +young fellow when he had occupied a fairly good position as a worker in +silver filigree jewelry. His eyesight, long painfully strained over his +delicate labors, suddenly failed him—he lost his place, of course, and +was utterly without resources. He offered to release his fiance from +her engagement, but she would not take her freedom—she insisted on +marrying him at once. She had her way, and devoted herself to him soul +and body—danced in the streets and sung to gain a living for herself +and him; taught him to weave baskets so that he might not feel himself +entirely dependent on her, and she sold these baskets for him so +successfully that he was gradually making quite a little trade of them. +Poor child! for she was not much more than a child—what a bright face +she had!—glorified by the self-denial and courage of her everyday +life. No wonder she had won the sympathy of the warmhearted and +impulsive Neapolitans—they looked upon her as a heroine of romance; +and as she passed through the streets, leading her blind husband +tenderly by the hand, there was not a creature in the city, even among +the most abandoned and vile characters, who would have dared to offer +her the least insult, or who would have ventured to address her +otherwise than respectfully. She was good, innocent, and true; how was +it, I wondered dreamily, that I could not have won a woman's heart like +hers? Were the poor alone to possess all the old world virtues—honor +and faith, love and loyalty? Was there something in a life of luxury +that sapped virtue at its root? Evidently early training had little to +do with after results, for had not my wife been brought up among an +order of nuns renowned for simplicity and sanctity; had not her own +father declared her to be "as pure as a flower on the altar of the +Madonna;" and yet the evil had been in her, and nothing had eradicated +it; for even religion, with her, was a mere graceful sham, a kind of +theatrical effect used to tone down her natural hypocrisy. My own +thoughts began to harass and weary me. I took up a volume of +philosophic essays and began to read, in an endeavor to distract my +mind from dwelling on the one perpetual theme. The day wore on slowly +enough; and I was glad when the evening closed in, and when Vincenzo, +remarking that the night was chilly, kindled a pleasant wood-fire in my +room, and lighted the lamps. A little while before my dinner was served +he handed me a letter stating that it had just been brought by the +Countess Romani's coachman. It bore my own seal and motto. I opened it; +it was dated, "La Santissima Annunziata," and ran as follows: +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"Beloved! I arrived here safely; the nuns are delighted to see me, and +you will be made heartily welcome when you come. I think of you +constantly—how happy I felt this morning! You seemed to love me so +much; why are you not always so fond of your faithful +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"NINA?" +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +I crumpled this note fiercely in my hand and flung it into the leaping +flames of the newly lighted fire. There was a faint perfume about it +that sickened me—a subtle odor like that of a civet cat when it moves +stealthily after its prey through a tangle of tropical herbage. I +always detested scented note-paper—I am not the only man who does so. +One is led to fancy that the fingers of the woman who writes upon it +must have some poisonous or offensive taint about them, which she +endeavors to cover by the aid of a chemical concoction. I would not +permit myself to think of this so "faithful Nina," as she styled +herself. I resumed my reading, and continued it even at dinner, during +which meal Vincenzo waited upon me with his usual silent gravity and +decorum, though I could feel that he watched me with a certain +solicitude. I suppose I looked weary—I certainly felt so, and retired +to rest unusually early. The time seemed to me so long—would the end +NEVER come? The next day dawned and trailed its tiresome hours after +it, as a prisoner might trail his chain of iron fetters, until sunset, +and then—then, when the gray of the wintry sky flashed for a brief +space into glowing red—then, while the water looked like blood and the +clouds like flame—then a few words sped along the telegraph wires that +stilled my impatience, roused my soul, and braced every nerve and +muscle in my body to instant action. They were plain, clear, and +concise: +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"From Guido Ferrari, Rome, to Il Conte Cesare Olfva, Naples.—Shall be +with you on the 24th inst. Train arrives at 6:30 P.M. Will come to you +as you desire without fail." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap22"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXII. +</H3> + +<P> +Christmas Eve! The day had been extra chilly, with frequent showers of +stinging rain, but toward five o'clock in the afternoon the weather +cleared. The clouds, which had been of a dull uniform gray, began to +break asunder and disclose little shining rifts of pale blue and bright +gold; the sea looked like a wide satin ribbon shaken out and shimmering +with opaline tints. Flower girls trooped forth making the air musical +with their mellow cries of "Fiori! chi vuol fiori" and holding up their +tempting wares—not bunches of holly and mistletoe such as are known in +England, but roses, lilies, jonquils, and sweet daffodils. The shops +were brilliant with bouquets and baskets of fruits and flowers; a +glittering show of etrennes, or gifts to suit all ages and conditions, +were set forth in tempting array, from a box of bonbons costing one +franc to a jeweled tiara worth a million, while in many of the windows +were displayed models of the "Bethlehem," with babe Jesus lying in his +manger, for the benefit of the round-eyed children—who, after staring +fondly at His waxen image for some time, would run off hand in hand to +the nearest church where the usual Christmas creche was arranged, and +there kneeling down, would begin to implore their "dear little Jesus," +their "own little brother," not to forget them, with a simplicity of +belief that was as touching as it was unaffected. +</P> + +<P> +I am told that in England the principle sight on Christmas-eve are the +shops of the butchers and poulterers hung with the dead carcases of +animals newly slaughtered, in whose mouths are thrust bunches of +prickly holly, at which agreeable spectacle the passers-by gape with +gluttonous approval. Surely there is nothing graceful about such a +commemoration of the birth of Christ as this? nothing picturesque, +nothing poetic?—nothing even orthodox, for Christ was born in the +East, and the Orientals are very small eaters, and are particularly +sparing in the use of meat. One wonders what such an unusual display of +vulgar victuals has to do with the coming of the Saviour, who arrived +among us in such poor estate that even a decent roof was denied to Him. +Perhaps, though, the English people read their gospels in a way of +their own, and understood that the wise men of the East, who are +supposed to have brought the Divine Child symbolic gifts of gold, +frankincense, and myrrh, really brought joints of beef, turkeys, and +"plum-pudding," that vile and indigestible mixture at which an Italian +shrugs his shoulders in visible disgust. There is something barbaric, I +suppose, in the British customs still—something that reminds one of +their ancient condition when the Romans conquered them—when their +supreme idea of enjoyment was to have an ox roasted whole before them +while they drank "wassail" till they groveled under their own tables in +a worse condition than overfed swine. Coarse and vulgar plenty is still +the leading characteristic at the dinners of English or American +parvenus; they have scarcely any idea of the refinements that can be +imparted to the prosaic necessity of eating—of the many little graces +of the table that are understood in part by the French, but that +perhaps never reach such absolute perfection of taste and skill as at +the banquets of a cultured and clever Italian noble. Some of these are +veritable "feasts of the gods," and would do honor to the fabled +Olympus, and such a one I had prepared for Guido Ferrari as a greeting +to him on his return from Rome—a feast of welcome and—farewell! +</P> + +<P> +All the resources of the hotel at which I stayed had been brought into +requisition. The chef, a famous cordon bleu, had transferred the work +of the usual table d'hote to his underlings, and had bent the powers of +his culinary intelligence solely on the production of the magnificent +dinner I had ordered. The landlord, in spite of himself, broke into +exclamations of wonder and awe as he listened to and wrote down my +commands for different wines of the rarest kinds and choicest vintages. +The servants rushed hither and thither to obey my various behests, with +looks of immense importance; the head waiter, a superb official who +prided himself on his artistic taste, took the laying-out of the table +under his entire superintendence, and nothing was talked of or thought +of for the time but the grandeur of my proposed entertainment. +</P> + +<P> +About six o'clock I sent my carriage down to the railway station to +meet Ferrari as I had arranged; and then, at my landlord's invitation, +I went to survey the stage that was prepared for one important scene of +my drama—to see if the scenery, side-lights, and general effects were +all in working order. To avoid disarranging my own apartments, I had +chosen for my dinner-party a room on the ground-floor of the hotel, +which was often let out for marriage-breakfasts and other purposes of +the like kind; it was octagonal in shape, not too large, and I had had +it most exquisitely decorated for the occasion. The walls were hung +with draperies of gold-colored silk and crimson velvet, interspersed +here and therewith long mirrors, which were ornamented with crystal +candelabra, in which twinkled hundreds of lights under rose-tinted +glass shades. At the back of the room, a miniature conservatory was +displayed to view, full of rare ferns and subtly perfumed exotics, in +the center of which a fountain rose and fell with regular and melodious +murmur. Here, later on, a band of stringed instruments and a choir of +boys' voices were to be stationed, so that sweet music might be heard +and felt without the performers being visible. One, and one only, of +the long French windows of the room was left uncurtained, it was simply +draped with velvet as one drapes a choice picture, and through it the +eyes rested on a perfect view of the Bay of Naples, white with the +wintery moonlight. +</P> + +<P> +The dinner-table, laid for fifteen persons, glittered with sumptuous +appointments of silver, Venetian glass, and the rarest flowers; the +floor was carpeted with velvet pile, in which some grains of ambergris +had been scattered, so that in walking the feet sunk, as it were, into +a bed of moss rich with the odors of a thousand spring blossoms. The +very chairs wherein my guests were to seat themselves were of a +luxurious shape and softly stuffed, so that one could lean back in them +or recline at ease—in short, everything was arranged with a lavish +splendor almost befitting the banquet of an eastern monarch, and yet +with such accurate taste that there was no detail one could have wished +omitted. +</P> + +<P> +I was thoroughly satisfied, but as I know what an unwise plan it is to +praise servants too highly for doing well what they are expressly paid +to do, I intimated my satisfaction to my landlord by a mere careless +nod and smile of approval. He, who waited on my every gesture with +abject humility, received this sign of condescension with as much +delight as though it had come from the king himself, and I could easily +see that the very fact of my showing no enthusiasm at the result of his +labors, made him consider me a greater man than ever. I now went to my +own apartments to don my evening attire; I found Vincenzo brushing +every speck of dust from my dresscoat with careful nicety—he had +already arranged the other articles of costume neatly on my bed ready +for wear. I unlocked a dressing-case and took from thence three studs, +each one formed of a single brilliant of rare clearness and lusters and +handed them to him to fix in my shirt-front. While he was polishing +these admiringly on his coat-sleeve I watched him earnestly—then I +suddenly addressed him. +</P> + +<P> +"Vincenzo!" He started. +</P> + +<P> +"Eccellenza?" +</P> + +<P> +"To-night you will stand behind my chair and assist in serving the +wine." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, eccellenza." +</P> + +<P> +"You will," I continued, "attend particularly to Sigor Ferrari, who +will sit at my right hand. Take care that his glass is never empty." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, eccellenza." +</P> + +<P> +"Whatever may be said or done," I went on, quietly, "you will show no +sign of alarm or surprise. From the commencement of dinner till I tell +you to move, remember your place is fixed by me." +</P> + +<P> +The honest fellow looked a little puzzled, but replied as before: +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, eccellenza." +</P> + +<P> +I smiled, and advancing, laid my hand on his arm. +</P> + +<P> +"How about the pistols, Vincenzo?" +</P> + +<P> +"They are cleaned and ready for use, eccellenza," he replied. "I have +placed them in your cabinet." +</P> + +<P> +"That is well!" I said with a satisfied gesture. "You can leave me and +arrange the salon for the reception of my friends." +</P> + +<P> +He disappeared, and I busied myself with my toilet, about which I was +for once unusually particular. The conventional dress-suit is not very +becoming, yet there are a few men here and there who look well in it, +and who, in spite of similarity in attire, will never be mistaken for +waiters. Others there are who, passable in appearance when clad in +their ordinary garments, reach the very acme of plebeianism when they +clothe themselves in the unaccommodating evening-dress. Fortunately, I +happened to be one of the former class—the sober black, the broad +white display of starched shirt-front and neat tie became me, almost +too well I thought. It would have been better for my purposes if I +could have feigned an aspect of greater age and weightier gravity. I +had scarcely finished my toilet when the rumbling of wheels in the +court-yard outside made the hot blood rush to my face, and my heart +beat with feverish excitement. I left my dressing-room, however, with a +composed countenance and calm step, and entered my private salon just +as its doors were flung open and "Signor Ferrari" was announced. He +entered smiling—his face was alight with good humor and glad +anticipation—he looked handsomer than usual. +</P> + +<P> +"Eccomi qua!" he cried, seizing my hands enthusiastically in his own. +"My dear conte, I am delighted to see you! What an excellent fellow you +are! A kind of amiable Arabian Nights genius, who occupies himself in +making mortals happy. And how are you? You look remarkably well!" +</P> + +<P> +"I can return the compliment," I said, gayly. "You are more of an +Antinous than ever." +</P> + +<P> +He laughed, well pleased, and sat down, drawing off his gloves and +loosening his traveling overcoat. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I suppose plenty of cash puts a man in good humor, and therefore +in good condition," he replied. "But my dear fellow, you are dressed +for dinner—quel preux chevalier! I am positively unfit to be in your +company! You insisted that I should come to you directly, on my +arrival, but I really must change my apparel. Your man took my valise; +in it are my dress-clothes—I shall not be ten minutes putting them on." +</P> + +<P> +"Take a glass of wine first," I said, pouring out some of his favorite +Montepulciano. "There is plenty of time. It is barely seven, and we do +not dine till eight." He took the wine from my hand and smiled. I +returned the smile, adding, "It gives me great pleasure to receive you, +Ferrari! I have been impatient for your return—almost as impatient +as—" He paused in the act of drinking, and his eyes flashed +delightedly. +</P> + +<P> +"As SHE has? Piccinina! How I long to see her again! I swear to you, +amico, I should have gone straight to the Villa Romani had I obeyed my +own impulse—but I had promised you to come here, and, on the whole, +the evening will do as well"—and he laughed with a covert meaning in +his laughter—"perhaps better!" +</P> + +<P> +My hands clinched, but I said with forced gayety: +</P> + +<P> +"Ma certamente! The evening will be much better! Is it not Byron who +says that women, like stars, look best at night? You will find her the +same as ever, perfectly well and perfectly charming. It must be her +pure and candid soul that makes her face so fair! It may be a relief to +your mind to know that I am the only man she has allowed to visit her +during your absence!" +</P> + +<P> +"Thank God for that!" cried Ferrari, devoutly, as he tossed off his +wine. "And now tell me, my dear conte, what bacchanalians are coming +to-night? Per Dio, after all I am more in the humor for dinner than +love-making!" +</P> + +<P> +I burst out laughing harshly. "Of course! Every sensible man prefers +good eating even to good women! Who are my guests you ask? I believe +you know them all. First, there is the Duca Filippo Marina." +</P> + +<P> +"By Heaven!" interrupted Guido. "An absolute gentleman, who by his +manner seems to challenge the universe to disprove his dignity! Can he +unbend so far as to partake of food in public? My dear conte, you +should have asked him that question!" +</P> + +<P> +"Then," I went on, not heeding this interruption, "Signor Fraschetti +and the Marchese Giulano." +</P> + +<P> +"Giulano drinks deep'." laughed Ferrari, "and should he mix his wines, +you will find him ready to stab all the waiters before the dinner is +half over." +</P> + +<P> +"In mixing wines," I returned, coolly, "he will but imitate your +example, caro mio." +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, but I can stand it!" he said. "He cannot! Few Neapolitans are like +me!" +</P> + +<P> +I watched him narrowly, and went on with the list of my invited guests. +</P> + +<P> +"After these, comes the Capitano Luigi Freccia." +</P> + +<P> +"What! the raging fire-eater?" exclaimed Guido. "He who at every second +word raps out a pagan or Christian oath, and cannot for his life tell +any difference between the two!" +</P> + +<P> +"And the illustrious gentleman Crispiano Dulci and Antonio Biscardi, +artists like yourself," I continued. +</P> + +<P> +He frowned slightly—then smiled. +</P> + +<P> +"I wish them good appetites! Time was when I envied their skill—now I +can afford to be generous. They are welcome to the whole field of art +as far as I am concerned. I have said farewell to the brush and +palette—I shall never paint again." +</P> + +<P> +True enough! I thought, eying the shapely white hand with which he just +then stroked his dark mustache; the same hand on which my family +diamond ring glittered like a star. He looked up suddenly. +</P> + +<P> +"Go on, conte I am all impatience. Who comes next?" +</P> + +<P> +"More fire-eaters, I suppose you will call them," I answered, "and +French fire-eaters, too. Monsieur le Marquis D'Avencourt, and le beau +Capitaine Eugene de Hamal." +</P> + +<P> +Ferrari looked astonished. "Per Bacco!" he exclaimed. "Two noted Paris +duelists! Why—what need have you of such valorous associates? I +confess your choice surprises me." +</P> + +<P> +"I understood them to be YOUR friends," I said, composedly. "If you +remember, YOU introduced me to them. I know nothing of the gentlemen +beyond that they appear to be pleasant fellows and good talkers. As for +their reputed skill I am inclined to set that down to a mere rumor, at +any rate, my dinner-table will scarcely provide a field for the display +of swordsmanship." +</P> + +<P> +Guido laughed. "Well, no! but these fellows would like to make it +one—why, they will pick a quarrel for the mere lifting of an eyebrow. +And the rest of your company?" +</P> + +<P> +"Are the inseparable brother sculptors Carlo and Francesco Respetti, +Chevalier Mancini, scientist and man of letters, Luziano Salustri, poet +and musician, and the fascinating Marchese Ippolito Gualdro, whose +conversation, as you know, is more entrancing than the voice of Adelina +Patti. I have only to add," and I smiled half mockingly, "the name of +Signor Guido Ferrari, true friend and loyal lover—and the party is +complete." +</P> + +<P> +"Altro! Fifteen in all including yourself," said Ferrari, gayly, +enumerating them on his fingers. "Per la madre di Dio! With such a +goodly company and a host who entertains en roi we shall pass a merry +time of it. And did you, amico, actually organize this banquet, merely +to welcome back so unworthy a person as myself?" +</P> + +<P> +"Solely and entirely for that reason," I replied. +</P> + +<P> +He jumped up from his chair and clapped his two hands on my shoulders. +</P> + +<P> +"A la bonne heure! But why, In the name of the saints or the devil, +have you taken such a fancy to me?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why have I taken such a fancy to you?" I repeated, slowly. "My dear +Ferrari, I am surely not alone in my admiration for your high +qualities! Does not every one like you? Are you not a universal +favorite? Do you not tell me that your late friend the Count Romani +held you as the dearest to him in the world after his wife? Ebbene! Why +underrate yourself?" +</P> + +<P> +He let his hands fall slowly from my shoulders and a look of pain +contracted his features. After a little silence he said: +</P> + +<P> +"Fabio again! How his name and memory haunt me! I told you he was a +fool—it was part of his folly that he loved me too well—perhaps. Do +you know I have thought of him very much lately?" +</P> + +<P> +"Indeed?" and I feigned to be absorbed in fixing a star-like japonica +in my button-hole. "How is that?" +</P> + +<P> +A grave and meditative look softened the usually defiant brilliancy of +his eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"I saw my uncle die," he continued, speaking in a low tone. "He was an +old man and had very little strength left,—yet his battle with death +was horrible—horrible! I see him yet—his yellow convulsed face—his +twisted limbs—his claw-like hands tearing at the empty air—then the +ghastly grim and dropped jaw—the wide-open glazed eyes—pshaw! it +sickened me!" +</P> + +<P> +"Well, well!" I said in a soothing way, still busying myself with the +arrangement of my button-hole, and secretly wondering what new emotion +was at work in the volatile mind of my victim. "No doubt it was +distressing to witness—but you could not have been very sorry—he was +an old man, and, though it is a platitude not worth repeating—we must +all die." +</P> + +<P> +"Sorry!" exclaimed Ferrari, talking almost more to himself than to me. +"I was glad! He was an old scoundrel, deeply dyed in every sort of +social villainy. No—I was not sorry, only as I watched him in his +frantic struggle, fighting furiously for each fresh gasp of breath—I +thought—I know not why—of Fabio." +</P> + +<P> +Profoundly astonished, but concealing my astonishment under an air of +indifference, I began to laugh. +</P> + +<P> +"Upon my word, Ferrari—pardon me for saying so, but the air of Rome +seems to have somewhat obscured your mind! I confess I cannot follow +your meaning." +</P> + +<P> +He sighed uneasily. "I dare say not! I scarce can follow it myself. But +if it was so hard for an old man to writhe himself out of life, what +must it have been for Fabio! We were students together; we used to walk +with our arms round each other's necks like school-girls, and he was +young and full of vitality—physically stronger, too, than I am. He +must have battled for life with every nerve and sinew stretched to +almost breaking." He stopped and shuddered. "By Heaven! death should be +made easier for us! It is a frightful thing!" +</P> + +<P> +A contemptuous pity arose in me. Was he coward as well as traitor? I +touched him lightly on the arm. +</P> + +<P> +"Excuse me, my young friend, if I say frankly that your dismal +conversation is slightly fatiguing. I cannot accept it as a suitable +preparation for dinner! And permit me to remind you that you have still +to dress." +</P> + +<P> +The gentle satire of my tone made him look up and smile. His face +cleared, and he passed his hand over his forehead, as though he swept +it free of some unpleasant thought. +</P> + +<P> +"I believe I am nervous," he said with a half laugh. "For the last few +hours I have had all sorts of uncomfortable presentiments and +forebodings." +</P> + +<P> +"No wonder!" I returned carelessly, "with such a spectacle as you have +described before the eyes of your memory. The Eternal City savors +somewhat disagreeably of graves. Shake the dust of the Caesars from +your feet, and enjoy your life, while it lasts!" +</P> + +<P> +"Excellent advice!" he said, smiling, "and not difficult to follow. Now +to attire for the festival. Have I your permission?" +</P> + +<P> +I touched the bell which summoned Vincenzo, and bade him wait on Signer +Ferrari's orders. Guido disappeared under his escort, giving me a +laughing nod of salutation as he left the room. I watched his retiring +figure with a strange pitifulness—the first emotion of the kind that +had awakened in me for him since I learned his treachery. His allusion +to that time when we had been students together—when we had walked +with arms round each other's necks "like school-girls," as he said, had +touched me more closely than I cared to realize. It was true, we had +been happy then—two careless youths with all the world like an +untrodden race-course before us. SHE had not then darkened the heaven +of our confidence; she had not come with her false fair face to make of +ME a blind, doting madman, and to transform him into a liar and +hypocrite. It was all her fault, all the misery and horror; she was the +blight on our lives; she merited the heaviest punishment, and she would +receive it. Yet, would to God we had neither of us ever seen her! Her +beauty, like a sword, had severed the bonds of friendship that after +all, when it DOES exist between two men, is better and braver than the +love of woman. However, all regrets were unavailing now; the evil was +done, and there was no undoing it. I had little time left me for +reflection; each moment that passed brought me nearer to the end I had +planned and foreseen. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap23"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXIII. +</H3> + +<P> +At about a quarter to eight my guests began to arrive, and one by one +they all came in save two—the brothers Respetti. While we were +awaiting them, Ferrari entered in evening-dress, with the conscious air +of a handsome man who knows he is looking his best. I readily admitted +his charm of manner; had I not myself been subjugated and fascinated by +it in the old happy, foolish days? He was enthusiastically greeted and +welcomed back to Naples by all the gentlemen assembled, many of whom +were his own particular friends. They embraced him in the +impressionable style common to Italians, with the exception of the +stately Duca di Marina, who merely bowed courteously, and inquired if +certain families of distinction whom he named had yet arrived in Rome +for the winter season. Ferrari was engaged in replying to these +questions with his usual grace and ease and fluency, when a note was +brought to me marked "Immediate." It contained a profuse and elegantly +worded apology from Carlo Respetti, who regretted deeply that an +unforeseen matter of business would prevent himself and his brother +from having the inestimable honor and delight of dining with me that +evening. I thereupon rang my bell as a sign that the dinner need no +longer be delayed; and, turning to those assembled, I announced to them +the unavoidable absence of two of the party. +</P> + +<P> +"A pity Francesco could not have come," said Captain Freccia, twirling +the ends of his long mustachios. "He loves good wine, and, better +still, good company." +</P> + +<P> +"Caro Capitano!" broke in the musical voice of the Marchese Gualdro, +"you know that our Francesco goes nowhere without his beloved Carlo. +Carlo CANNOT come—altro! Francesco WILL NOT. Would that all men were +such brothers!" +</P> + +<P> +"If they were," laughed Luziano Salustri, rising from the piano where +he had been playing softly to himself, "half the world would be thrown +out of employment. You, for instance," turning to the Marquis +D'Avencourt, "would scarce know what to do with your time." +</P> + +<P> +The marquis smiled and waved his hand with a deprecatory gesture—that +hand, by the by, was remarkably small and delicately formed—it looked +almost fragile. Yet the strength and suppleness of D'Avencourt's wrist +was reputed to be prodigious by those who had seen him handle the +sword, whether in play or grim earnest. +</P> + +<P> +"It is an impossible dream," he said, in reply to the remarks of +Gualdro and Salustri, "that idea of all men fraternizing together in +one common pig-sty of equality. Look at the differences of caste! +Birth, breeding and education make of man that high-mettled, sensitive +animal known as gentleman, and not all the socialistic theories in the +world can force him down on the same level with the rough boor, whose +flat nose and coarse features announce him as plebeian even before one +hears the tone of his voice. We cannot help these things. I do not +think we WOULD help them even if we could." +</P> + +<P> +"You are quite right," said Ferrari. "You cannot put race-horses to +draw the plow. I have always imagined that the first quarrel—the Cain +and Abel affair—must have occurred through some difference of caste as +well as jealousy—for instance, perhaps Abel was a negro and Cain a +white man, or vice versa; which would account for the antipathy +existing between the races to this day." +</P> + +<P> +The Duke di Marina coughed a stately cough, and shrugged his shoulders. +</P> + +<P> +"That first quarrel," he said, "as related in the Bible, was +exceedingly vulgar. It must have been a kind of prize-fight. Ce n'etait +pas fin." +</P> + +<P> +Gualdro laughed delightedly. +</P> + +<P> +"So like you, Marina!" he exclaimed, "to say that! I sympathize with +your sentiments! Fancy the butcher Abel piling up his reeking carcasses +and setting them on fire, while on the other side stood Cain the +green-grocer frizzling his cabbages, turnips, carrots, and other +vegetable matter! What a spectacle! The gods of Olympus would have +sickened at it! However, the Jewish Deity, or rather, the well-fed +priest who represented him, showed his good taste in the matter; I +myself prefer the smell of roast meat to the rather disagreeable odor +of scorching vegetables!" +</P> + +<P> +We laughed—and at that moment the door was thrown open, and the +head-waiter announced in solemn tones befitting his dignity— +</P> + +<P> +"Le diner de Monsieur le Conte est servi!" +</P> + +<P> +I at once led the way to the banqueting-room—my guests followed gayly, +talking and jesting among themselves. They were all in high good humor, +none of them had as yet noticed the fatal blank caused by the absence +of the brothers Respetti. I had—for the number of my guests was now +thirteen instead of fifteen. Thirteen at table! I wondered if any of +the company were superstitious? Ferrari was not, I knew—unless his +nerves had been latterly shaken by witnessing the death of his uncle. +At any rate, I resolved to say nothing that could attract the attention +of my guests to the ill-omened circumstance; if any one should notice +it, it would be easy to make light of it and of all similar +superstitions. I myself was the one most affected by it—it had for me +a curious and fatal significance. I was so occupied with the +consideration of it that I scarcely attended to the words addressed to +me by the Duke di Marina, who, walking beside me, seemed disposed to +converse with more familiarity than was his usual custom. We reached +the door of the dining-room; which at our approach was thrown wide +open, and delicious strains of music met our ears as we entered. Low +murmurs of astonishment and admiration broke from all the gentlemen as +they viewed the sumptuous scene before them. I pretended not to hear +their eulogies, as I took my seat at the head of the table, with Guido +Ferrari on my right and the Duke di Manna on my left. The music sounded +louder and more triumphant, and while all the company were seating +themselves in the places assigned to them, a choir of young fresh +voices broke forth into a Neapolitan "madrigale"—which as far as I can +translate it ran as follows: +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + "Welcome the festal hour!<BR> + Pour the red wine into cups of gold!<BR> + Health to the men who are strong and bold!<BR> + Welcome the festal hour!<BR> + Waken the echoes with riotous mirth—<BR> + Cease to remember the sorrows of earth<BR> + In the joys of the festal hour!<BR> + Wine is the monarch of laughter and light,<BR> + Death himself shall be merry to-night!<BR> + Hail to the festal hour!"<BR> +</P> + +<P> +An enthusiastic clapping of hands rewarded this effort on the part of +the unseen vocalists, and the music having ceased, conversation became +general. +</P> + +<P> +"By heaven!" exclaimed Ferrari, "if this Olympian carouse is meant as a +welcome to me, amico, all I can say is that I do not deserve it. Why, +it is more fit for the welcome of one king to his neighbor sovereign!" +</P> + +<P> +"Ebbene!" I said. "Are there any better kings than honest men? Let us +hope we are thus far worthy of each other's esteem." +</P> + +<P> +He flashed a bright look of gratitude upon me and was silent, listening +to the choice and complimentary phrases uttered by the Duke di Manna +concerning the exquisite taste displayed in the arrangement of the +table. +</P> + +<P> +"You have no doubt traveled much in the East, conte," said this +nobleman. "Your banquet reminds me of an Oriental romance I once read, +called 'Vathek.'" +</P> + +<P> +"Exactly '" exclaimed Guido "I think Oliva must be Vathek himself'" +</P> + +<P> +"Scarcely!" I said, smiling coldly. "I lay no claim to supernatural +experiences. The realities of life are sufficiently wonderful for me." +</P> + +<P> +Antonio Biscardi the painter, a refined, gentle-featured man, looked +toward us and said modestly: +</P> + +<P> +"I think you are right, conte. The beauties of nature and of humanity +are so varied and profound that were it not for the inextinguishable +longing after immortality which has been placed in every one of us, I +think we should be perfectly satisfied with this world as it is." +</P> + +<P> +"You speak like an artist and a man of even temperament," broke in the +Marchese Gualdro, who had finished his soup quickly in order to be able +to talk—talking being his chief delight. "For me, I am never +contented. I never have enough of anything! That is my nature. When I +see lovely flowers, I wish more of them—when I behold a fine sunset, I +desire many more such sunsets—when I look upon a lovely woman—" +</P> + +<P> +"You would have lovely women ad infinitum!" laughed the French +Capitaine de Hamal. "En verite, Gualdro, you should have been a Turk!" +</P> + +<P> +"And why not?" demanded Gualdro. "The Turks are very sensible +people—they know how to make coffee better than we do. And what more +fascinating than a harem? It must be like a fragrant hot-house, where +one is free to wander every day, sometimes gathering a gorgeous lily, +sometimes a simple violet—sometimes—" "A thorn?" suggested Salustri. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, perhaps!" laughed the Marchese. "Yet one would run the risk of +that for the sake of a perfect rose." +</P> + +<P> +Chevalier Mancini, who wore in his button-hole the decoration of the +Legion d'Honneur, looked up—he was a thin man with keen eyes and a +shrewd face which, though at a first glance appeared stern, could at +the least provocation break up into a thousand little wrinkles of +laughter. +</P> + +<P> +"There is undoubtedly something entrainant about the idea," he +observed, in his methodical way. "I have always fancied that marriage +as we arrange it is a great mistake." +</P> + +<P> +"And that is why you have never tried it?" queried Ferrari, looking +amused. +</P> + +<P> +"Certissimamente!" and the chevalier's grim countenance began to work +with satirical humor. "I have resolved that I will never be bound over +by the law to kiss only one woman. As matters stand, I can kiss them +all if I like." +</P> + +<P> +A shout of merriment and cries of "Oh! oh!" greeted this remark, which +Ferrari, however, did not seem inclined to take in good part. +</P> + +<P> +"All?" he said, with a dubious air. "You mean all except the married +ones?" +</P> + +<P> +The chevalier put on his spectacles, and surveyed him with a sort of +comic severity. +</P> + +<P> +"When I said ALL, I meant all," he returned—"the married ones in +particular. They, poor things, need such attentions—and often invite +them—why not? Their husbands have most likely ceased to be amorous +after the first months of marriage." +</P> + +<P> +I burst out laughing. "You are right, Mancini," I said; "and even if +the husbands are fools enough to continue their gallantries they +deserve to be duped—and they generally are! Come, amico.'" I added, +turning to Ferrari, "those are your own sentiments—you have often +declared them to me." +</P> + +<P> +He smiled uncomfortably, and his brows contracted. I could easily +perceive that he was annoyed. To change the tone of the conversation I +gave a signal for the music to recommence, and instantly the melody of +a slow, voluptuous Hungarian waltz-measure floated through the room. +The dinner was now fairly on its way; the appetites of my guests were +stimulated and tempted by the choicest and most savory viands, prepared +with all the taste and intelligence a first rate chef can bestow on his +work, and good wine flowed freely. +</P> + +<P> +Vincenzo obediently following my instructions, stood behind my chair, +and seldom moved except to refill Ferrari's glass, and occasionally to +proffer some fresh vintage to the Duke di Marina. He, however, was an +abstemious and careful man, and followed the good example shown by the +wisest Italians, who never mix their wines. He remained faithful to the +first beverage he had selected—a specially fine Chianti, of which he +partook freely without its causing the slightest flush to appear on his +pale aristocratic features. Its warm and mellow flavor did but brighten +his eyes and loosen his tongue, inasmuch that he became almost as +elegant a talker as the Marchese Gualdro. This latter, who scarce had a +scudo to call his own, and who dined sumptuously every day at other +people's expense for the sake of the pleasure his company afforded, was +by this time entertaining every one near him by the most sparkling +stories and witty pleasantries. +</P> + +<P> +The merriment increased as the various courses were served; shouts of +laughter frequently interrupted the loud buzz of conversation, mingling +with the clinking of glasses and clattering of porcelain. Every now and +then might be heard the smooth voice of Captain Freccia rolling out his +favorite oaths with the sonority and expression of a primo tenore; +sometimes the elegant French of the Marquis D'Avencourt, with his high, +sing-song Parisian accent, rang out above the voices of the others; and +again, the choice Tuscan of the poet Luziano Salustri rolled forth in +melodious cadence as though he were chanting lines from Dante or +Ariosto, instead of talking lightly on indifferent matters. I accepted +my share in the universal hilarity, though I principally divided my +conversation between Ferrari and the duke, paying to both, but +specially to Ferrari, that absolute attention which is the greatest +compliment a host can bestow on those whom he undertakes to entertain. +</P> + +<P> +We had reached that stage of the banquet when the game was about to be +served—the invisible choir of boys' voices had just completed an +enchanting stornello with an accompaniment of mandolines—when a +stillness, strange and unaccountable, fell upon the company—a +pause—an ominous hush, as though some person supreme in authority had +suddenly entered the room and commanded "Silence!" No one seemed +disposed to speak or to move, the very footsteps of the waiters were +muffled in the velvet pile of the carpets—no sound was heard but the +measured plash of the fountain that played among the ferns and flowers. +The moon, shining frostily white through the one uncurtained window, +cast a long pale green ray, like the extended arm of an appealing +ghost, against one side of the velvet hangings—a spectral effect which +was heightened by the contrast of the garish glitter of the waxen +tapers. Each man looked at the other with a sort of uncomfortable +embarrassment, and somehow, though I moved my lips in an endeavor to +speak and thus break the spell, I was at a loss, and could find no +language suitable to the moment. Ferrari toyed with his wine-glass +mechanically—the duke appeared absorbed in arranging the crumbs beside +his plate into little methodical patterns; the stillness seemed to last +so long that it was like a suffocating heaviness in the air. Suddenly +Vincenzo, in his office of chief butler, drew the cork of a +champagne-bottle with a loud-sounding pop! We all started as though a +pistol had been fired in our ears, and the Marchese Gualdro burst out +laughing. +</P> + +<P> +"Corpo di Baceo!" he cried. "At last you have awakened from sleep! Were +you all struck dumb, amici, that you stared at the table-cloth so +persistently and with such admirable gravity? May Saint Anthony and his +pig preserve me, but for the time I fancied I was attending a banquet +on the wrong side of the Styx, and that you, my present companions, +were all dead men!" +</P> + +<P> +"And that idea made YOU also hold your tongue, which is quite an +unaccountable miracle in its way," laughed Luziano Salustri. "Have you +never heard the pretty legend that attaches to such an occurrence as a +sudden silence in the midst of high festivity? An angel enters, +bestowing his benediction as he passes through." +</P> + +<P> +"That story is more ancient than the church," said Chevalier Mancini. +"It is an exploded theory—for we have ceased to believe in angels—we +call them women instead." +</P> + +<P> +"Bravo, mon vieux gaillard!" cried Captain de Hamal. "Your sentiments +are the same as mine, with a very trifling difference. You believe +women to be angels—I know them to be devils—mas il n'y agu'un pas +entre es deux? We will not quarrel over a word—a votre sante, mon +cher!" +</P> + +<P> +And he drained his glass, nodding to Mancini, who followed his example. +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps," said the smooth, slow voice of Captain Freccia, "our silence +was caused by the instinctive consciousness of something wrong with our +party—a little inequality—which I dare say our noble host has not +thought it worth while to mention." +</P> + +<P> +Every head was turned in his direction. "What do you mean?" "What +inequality?" "Explain yourself!" chorused several voices. +</P> + +<P> +"Really it is a mere nothing," answered Freccia, lazily, as he surveyed +with the admiring air of a gourmet the dainty portion of pheasant just +placed before him. "I assure you, only the uneducated would care two +scudi about such a circumstance. The excellent brothers Respetti are to +blame—their absence to-night has caused—but why should I disturb your +equanimity? I am not superstitious—ma, chi sa?—some of you may be." +</P> + +<P> +"I see what you mean!" interrupted Salustri, quickly. "We are thirteen +at table!" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap24"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXIV. +</H3> + +<P> +At this announcement my guests looked furtively at each other, and I +could see they were counting up the fatal number for themselves. They +were undeniably clever, cultivated men of the world, but the +superstitious element was in their blood, and all, with the exception +perhaps of Freccia and the ever-cool Marquis D'Avencourt, were +evidently rendered uneasy by the fact now discovered. On Ferrari it had +a curious effect—he started violently and his face flushed. "Diabolo!" +he muttered, under his breath, and seizing his never-empty glass, he +swallowed its contents thirstily and quickly at one gulp as though +attacked by fever, and pushed away his plate with a hand that trembled +nervously. I, meanwhile, raised my voice and addressed my guests +cheerfully! +</P> + +<P> +"Our distinguished friend Salustri is perfectly right, gentlemen. I +myself noticed the discrepancy in our number some time ago—but I knew +that you were all advanced thinkers, who had long since liberated +yourselves from the trammels of superstitious observances, which are +the result of priestcraft, and are now left solely to the vulgar. +Therefore I said nothing. The silly notion of any misfortune attending +the number thirteen arose, as you are aware, out of the story of the +Last Supper, and children and women may possibly still give credence to +the fancy that one out of thirteen at table must be a traitor and +doomed to die. But we men know better. None of us here to-night have +reason to put ourselves in the position of a Christ or a Judas—we are +all good friends and boon companions, and I cannot suppose for a moment +that this little cloud can possibly affect you seriously. Remember also +that this is Christmas-eve, and that according to the world's greatest +poet, Shakespeare, +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + "'Then no planet strikes,<BR> + No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm,<BR> + So hallowed and so gracious is the time.'"<BR> +</P> + +<P> +A murmur of applause and a hearty clapping of hands rewarded this +little speech, and the Marchese Gualdro sprung to his feet— +</P> + +<P> +"By Heaven!" he exclaimed, "we are not a party of terrified old women +to shiver on the edge of a worn-out omen! Fill your glasses, signori! +More wine, garcon! Per bacco! if Judas Iscariot himself had such a +feast as ours before he hanged himself, he was not much to be pitied! +Hola amici! To the health of our noble host, Conte Cesare Oliva!" +</P> + +<P> +He waved his glass in the air three times—every one followed his +example and drank the toast with enthusiasm. I bowed my thanks and +acknowledgments—and the superstitious dread which at first bad +undoubtedly seized the company passed away quickly—the talking, the +merriment, and laughter were resumed, and soon it seemed as though the +untoward circumstance were entirely forgotten. Only Guido Ferrari +seemed still somewhat disturbed in his mind—but even his uneasiness +dissipated itself by degrees, and heated by the quantity of wine he had +taken, he began to talk with boastful braggartism of his many +successful gallantries, and related his most questionable anecdotes in +such a manner as to cause some haughty astonishment in the mind of the +Duke di Marina, who eyed him from time to time with ill-disguised +impatience that bordered on contempt. I, on the contrary, listened to +everything he said with urbane courtesy—I humored him and drew him out +as much as possible—I smiled complacently at his poor jokes and vulgar +witticisms—and when he said something that was more than usually +outrageous, I contented myself with a benevolent shake of my head, and +the mild remark: +</P> + +<P> +"Ah! young blood! young blood!" uttered in a bland sotto-voce. +</P> + +<P> +The dessert was now served, and with it came the costly wines which I +had ordered to be kept back till then. Priceless "Chateau Yquem," "Clos +Vougeot," of the rarest vintages, choice "Valpulcello" and an +exceedingly superb "Lacrima Cristi"—one after the other, these were +tasted, criticised, and heartily appreciated. There was also a very +unique brand of champagne costing nearly forty francs a bottle, which +was sparkling and mellow to the palate, but fiery in quality. This +particular beverage was so seductive in flavor that every one partook +of it freely, with the result that the most discreet among the party +now became the most uproarious. Antonio Biscardi, the quiet and +unobtrusive painter, together with his fellow-student, Crispiano Dulci, +usually the shyest of young men, suddenly grew excited, and uttered +blatant nothings concerning their art. Captain Freccia argued the +niceties of sword-play with the Marquis D'Avencourt, both speakers +illustrating their various points by thrusting their dessert-knives +skillfully into the pulpy bodies of the peaches they had on their +plates. Luziano Salustri lay back at ease in his chair, his classic +head reclining on the velvet cushions, and recited in low and measured +tones one of his own poems, caring little or nothing whether his +neighbors attended to him or not. The glib tongue of the Marchese +Gualdro ran on smoothly and incessantly, though he frequently lost the +thread of his anecdotes and became involved in a maze of contradictory +assertions. The rather large nose of the Chevalier Mancini reddened +visibly as he laughed joyously to himself at nothing in particular—in +short, the table had become a glittering whirlpool of excitement and +feverish folly, which at a mere touch, or word out of season, might +rise to a raging storm of frothy dissension. The Duke di Marina and +myself alone of all the company were composed as usual—he had resisted +the champagne, and as for me, I had let all the splendid wines go past +me, and had not taken more than two glasses of a mild Chianti. +</P> + +<P> +I glanced keenly round the riotous board—I noted the flushed faces and +rapid gesticulations of my guests, and listened to the Babel of +conflicting tongues. I drew a long breath as I looked—I calculated +that in two or three minutes at the very least I might throw down the +trump card I had held so patiently in my hand all the evening. +</P> + +<P> +I took a close observation of Ferrari. He had edged his chair a little +away from mine, and was talking confidentially to his neighbor, Captain +de Hamal—his utterance was low and thick, but yet I distinctly heard +him enumerating in somewhat coarse language the exterior charms of a +woman—what woman I did not stop to consider—the burning idea struck +me that he was describing the physical perfections of my wife to this +De Hamal, a mere spadaccino, for whom there was nothing sacred in +heaven or earth. My blood rapidly heated itself to boiling point—to +this day I remember how it throbbed in my temples, leaving my hands and +feet icy cold. I rose in my seat, and tapped on the table to call for +silence and attention—but for some time the noise of argument and the +clatter of tongues were so great that I could not make myself heard. +The duke endeavored to second my efforts, but in vain. At last +Ferrari's notice was attracted—he turned round, and seizing a dessert +knife beat with it on the table and on his own plate so noisily and +persistently that the loud laughter and conversation ceased suddenly. +The moment had come—I raised my head, fixed my spectacles more firmly +over my eyes, and spoke in distinct and steady tones, first of all +stealing a covert glance toward Ferrari. He had sunk back again lazily +in his chair and was lighting a cigarette. +</P> + +<P> +"My friends," I said, meeting with a smile the inquiring looks that +were directed toward me, "I have presumed to interrupt your mirth for a +moment, not to restrain it, but rather to give it a fresh impetus. I +asked you all here to-night, as you know, to honor me by your presence +and to give a welcome to our mutual friend, Signor Guido Ferrari." Here +I was interrupted by a loud clapping of hands and ejaculations of +approval, while Ferrari himself murmured affably between two puffs of +his cigarette. "Tropp' onore, amico, tropp' onore!" I resumed, "This +young and accomplished gentleman, who is, I believe, a favorite with +you all, has been compelled through domestic affairs to absent himself +from our circle for the past few weeks, and I think he must himself be +aware how much we have missed his pleasant company. It will, however, +be agreeable to you, as it has been for me, to know that he has +returned to Naples a richer man than when he left it—that fortune has +done him justice, and that with the possession of abundant wealth he is +at last called upon to enjoy the reward due to his merits!" +</P> + +<P> +Here there was more clapping of hands and exclamations of pleasure, +while those who were seated near Ferrari raised their glasses and drank +to his health with congratulations, all of which courtesies he +acknowledged by a nonchalant, self-satisfied bow. I glanced at him +again—how tranquil he looked!—reclining among the crimson cushions of +his chair, a brimming glass of champagne beside him, the cigarette +between his lips, and his handsome face slightly upturned, though his +eyes rested half drowsily on the uncurtained window through which the +Bay of Naples was seen glittering in the moonlight. +</P> + +<P> +I continued: "It was, gentlemen, that you might welcome and +congratulate Signor Ferrari as you have done, that I assembled you here +to-night—or rather, let me say it was PARTLY the object of our present +festivity—but there is yet another reason which I shall now have the +pleasure of explaining to you—a reason which, as it concerns myself +and my immediate happiness, will, I feel confident, secure your +sympathy and good wishes." +</P> + +<P> +This time every one was silent, intently following my words. +</P> + +<P> +"What I am about to say," I went on, calmly, "may very possibly +surprise you. I have been known to you as a man of few words, and, I +fear, of abrupt and brusque manners"—cries of "No, no!" mingled with +various complimentary assurances reached my ears from all sides of the +table. I bowed with a gratified air, and when silence was restored—"At +any rate you would not think me precisely the sort of man to take a +lady's fancy." A look of wonder and curiosity was now exchanged among +my guests. Ferrari took his cigarette out of his mouth and stared at me +in blank astonishment. +</P> + +<P> +"No," I went on, meditatively, "old as I am, and a half-blind invalid +besides, it seems incredible that any woman should care to look at me +more than twice en passant. But I have met—let me say with the +Chevalier Mancini—an angel—who has found me not displeasing to her, +and—in short—I am going to marry!" +</P> + +<P> +There was a pause. Ferrari raised himself slightly from his reclining +position and seemed about to speak, but apparently changing his mind he +remained silent—his face had somewhat paled. The momentary hesitation +among my guests passed quickly. All present, except Guido, broke out +into a chorus of congratulations, mingled with good-humored jesting and +laughter. +</P> + +<P> +"Say farewell to jollity, conte!" cried Chevalier Mancini; "once drawn +along by the rustling music of a woman's gown, no more such feasts as +we have had to-night!" +</P> + +<P> +And he shook his head with tipsy melancholy. +</P> + +<P> +"By all the gods!" exclaimed Gualdro, "your news has surprised me! I +should have thought you were the last man to give up liberty for the +sake of a woman. ONE woman, too! Why, man, freedom could give you +twenty!" +</P> + +<P> +"Ah!" murmured Salustri, softly and sentimentally, "but the one perfect +pearl—the one flawless diamond—" +</P> + +<P> +"Bah! Salustri, caro mio, you are half asleep!" returned Gualdro. "'Tis +the wine talks, not you. Thou art conquered by the bottle, amico. You, +the darling of all the women in Naples, to talk of one! Buona notte, +bambino!" +</P> + +<P> +I still maintained my standing position, leaning my two hands on the +table before me. +</P> + +<P> +"What our worthy Gualdro says," I went on, "is perfectly true. I have +been noted for my antipathy to the fair sex. I know it. But when one of +the loveliest among women comes out of her way to tempt me—when she +herself displays the matchless store of her countless fascinations for +my attraction—when she honors me by special favors and makes me +plainly aware that I am not too presumptuous in venturing to aspire to +her hand in marriage—what can I do but accept with a good grace the +fortune thrown to me by Providence? I should be the most ungrateful of +men were I to refuse so precious a gift from Heaven, and I confess I +feel no inclination to reject what I consider to be the certainty of +happiness. I therefore ask you all to fill your glasses, and do me the +favor to drink to the health and happiness of my future bride." +</P> + +<P> +Gualdro sprung erect, his glass held high in the air; every man +followed his example, Ferrari rose to his feet with some unsteadiness, +while the hand that held his full champagne glass trembled. +</P> + +<P> +The Duke di Marina, with a courteous gesture, addressed me: "You will, +of course, honor us by disclosing the name of the fair lady whom we are +prepared to toast with all befitting reverence?" +</P> + +<P> +"I was about to ask the same question," said Ferrari, in hoarse +accents—his lips were dry, and he appeared to have some difficulty in +speaking. "Possibly we are not acquainted with her?" +</P> + +<P> +"On the contrary," I returned, eying him steadily with a cool smile. +"You all know her name well! Illustrissimi Signori!" and my voice rang +out clearly—"to the health of my betrothed wife, the Contessa Romani!" +</P> + +<P> +"Liar!" shouted Ferrari—and with all a madman's fury he dashed his +brimming glass of champagne full in my face! In a second the wildest +scene of confusion ensued. Every man left his place at table and +surrounded us. I stood erect and perfectly calm—wiping with my +handkerchief the little runlets of wine that dripped from my +clothing—the glass had fallen at my feet, striking the table as it +fell and splitting itself to atoms. +</P> + +<P> +"Are you drunk or mad, Ferrari?" cried Captain de Hamal, seizing him by +the arm—"do you know what you have done?" +</P> + +<P> +Ferrari glared about him like a tiger at bay—his face was flushed and +swollen like that of a man in apoplexy—the veins in his forehead stood +out like knotted cords—his breath came and went hard as though he had +been running. He turned his rolling eyes upon me. "Damn you!" he +muttered through his clinched teeth—then suddenly raising his voice to +a positive shriek, he cried, "I will have your blood if I have to tear +your heart for it!"—and he made an effort to spring upon me. The +Marquis D'Avencourt quietly caught his other arm and held it as in a +vise. +</P> + +<P> +"Not so fast, not so fast, mon cher" he said, coolly. "We are not +murderers, we! What devil possesses you, that you offer such +unwarrantable insult to our host?" +</P> + +<P> +"Ask HIM!" replied Ferrari, fiercely, struggling to release himself +from the grasp of the two Frenchmen—"he knows well enough! Ask HIM!" +</P> + +<P> +All eyes were turned inquiringly upon me. I was silent. +</P> + +<P> +"The noble conte is really not bound to give any explanation," remarked +Captain Freccia—"even admitting he were able to do so." +</P> + +<P> +"I assure you, my friends," I said, "I am ignorant of the cause of this +fracas, except that this young gentleman had pretensions himself to the +hand of the lady whose name affects him so seriously!" +</P> + +<P> +For a moment I thought Ferrari would have choked. +</P> + +<P> +"Pretensions—pretensions!" he gasped. "Gran Dio! Hear him!—hear the +miserable scoundrel!" +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, basta!" exclaimed Chevalier Mancini, scornfully—"Is that all? A +mere bagatelle! Ferrari, you were wont to be more sensible! What! +quarrel with an excellent friend for the sake of a woman who happens to +prefer him to you! Ma che! Women are plentiful—friends are few." +</P> + +<P> +"If," I resumed, still methodically wiping the stains of wine from my +coat and vest—"if Signor Ferrari's extraordinary display of temper is +a mere outcome of natural disappointment, I am willing to excuse it. He +is young and hotblooded—let him apologize, and I shall freely pardon +him." +</P> + +<P> +"By my faith!" said the Duke di Marina with indignation, "such +generosity is unheard of, conte! Permit me to remark that it is +altogether exceptional, after such ungentlemanly conduct." +</P> + +<P> +Ferrari looked from one to the other in silent fury. His face had grown +pale as death. He wrenched himself from the grasp of D'Avencourt and De +Hamal. +</P> + +<P> +"Fools! let me go!" he said, savagely. "None of you are on my side—I +see that!" He stepped to the table, poured out a glass of water and +drank it off. He then turned and faced me—his head thrown back, his +eyes blazing with wrath and pain. +</P> + +<P> +"Liar!" he cried again, "double-faced accursed liar! You have stolen +HER—you have fooled ME—but, by G-d, you shall pay for it with your +life!" +</P> + +<P> +"Willingly!" I said, with a mocking smile, restraining by a gesture the +hasty exclamations of those around me who resented this fresh +attack—"most willingly, caro signor! But excuse me if I fail to see +wherein you consider yourself wronged. The lady who is now my fiancee +has not the slightest affection for you—she told me so herself. Had +she entertained any such feelings I might have withdrawn my +proposals—but as matters stand, what harm have I done you?" +</P> + +<P> +A chorus of indignant voices interrupted me. "Shame on you, Ferrari!" +cried Gualdro. "The count speaks like a gentleman and a man of honor. +Were I in his place you should have had no word of explanation +whatever. I would not have condescended to parley with you—by Heaven I +would not!" +</P> + +<P> +"Nor I!" said the duke, stiffly. +</P> + +<P> +"Nor I!" said Mancini. +</P> + +<P> +"Surely," said Luziana Salustri, "Ferrari will make the amende +honorable." +</P> + +<P> +There was a pause. Each man looked at Ferrari with some anxiety. The +suddenness of the quarrel had sobered the whole party more effectually +than a cold douche. Ferrari's face grew more and more livid till his +very lips turned a ghastly blue—he laughed aloud in bitter scorn. +Then, walking steadily up to me, with his eyes full of baffled +vindictiveness, he said, in a low clear tone: +</P> + +<P> +"You say that—you say she never cared for me—YOU! and I am to +apologize to you! Thief, coward, traitor—take that for my apology!" +And he struck me across the mouth with his bare hand so fiercely that +the diamond ring he wore (my diamond ring) cut my flesh and slightly +drew blood. A shout of anger broke from all present! I turned to the +Marquis D'Avencourt. +</P> + +<P> +"There can be but one answer to this," I said, with indifferent +coldness. "Signor Ferrari has brought it on himself. Marquis, will you +do me the honor to arrange the affair?" +</P> + +<P> +The marquis bowed, "I shall be most happy!" +</P> + +<P> +Ferrari glared about him for a moment and then said, "Freccia, you will +second me?" +</P> + +<P> +Captain Freccia shrugged his shoulders. "You must positively excuse +me," he said. "My conscience will not permit me to take up such a +remarkably wrong cause as yours, cara mio! I shall be pleased to act +with D'Avencourt for the count, if he will permit me." The marquis +received him with cordiality, and the two engaged in earnest +conversation. Ferrari next proffered his request to his quondam friend +De Hamal, who also declined to second him, as did every one among the +company. He bit his lips in mortification and wounded vanity, and +seemed hesitating what to do next, when the marquis approached him with +frigid courtesy and appeared to offer him some suggestions in a low +tone of voice—for after a few minutes' converse, Ferrari suddenly +turned on his heel and abruptly left the room without another word or +look. At the same instant I touched Vincenzo, who, obedient to his +orders, had remained an impassive but evidently astonished spectator of +all that had passed, and whispered—"Follow that man and do not let him +see you." He obeyed so instantly that the door had scarcely closed upon +Ferrari when Vincenzo had also disappeared. The Marquis D'Avencourt now +came up to me. +</P> + +<P> +"Your opponent has gone to find two seconds," he said. "As you +perceived, no one here would or could support him. It is a most +unfortunate affair." +</P> + +<P> +"Most unfortunate," chorused De Hamal, who, though not in it, appeared +thoroughly to enjoy it. +</P> + +<P> +"For my part," said the Duke di Marina, "I wonder how our noble friend +could be so lenient with such a young puppy. His conceit is +insufferable!" +</P> + +<P> +Others around me made similar remarks, and were evidently anxious to +show how entirely they were on my side. I however remained silent, lest +they should see how gratified I was at the success of my scheme. The +marquis addressed me again: +</P> + +<P> +"While awaiting the other seconds, who are to find us here," he said, +with a glance at his watch, "Freccia and I have arranged a few +preliminaries. It is now nearly midnight. We propose that the affair +should come off in the morning at six precisely. Will that suit you?" +</P> + +<P> +I bowed. +</P> + +<P> +"As the insulted party you have the choice of weapons. Shall we say—" +</P> + +<P> +"Pistols," I replied briefly. +</P> + +<P> +"A la bonne heure! Then, suppose we fix upon the plot of open ground +just behind the hill to the left of the Casa Ghirlande—between that +and the Villa Romani—it is quiet and secluded, and there will be no +fear of interruption." +</P> + +<P> +I bowed again. +</P> + +<P> +"Thus it stands," continued the marquis, affably—"the hour of six—the +weapons pistols—the paces to be decided hereafter when the other +seconds arrive." +</P> + +<P> +I professed myself entirely satisfied with these arrangements, and +shook hands with my amiable coadjutor. I then looked round at the rest +of the assembled company with a smile at their troubled faces. +</P> + +<P> +"Gentlemen," I said, "our feast has broken up in a rather disagreeable +manner—and I am sorry for it, the more especially as it compels me to +part from you. Receive my thanks for your company, and for the +friendship you have displayed toward me! I do not believe that this is +the last time I shall have the honor of entertaining you—but if it +should be so, I shall at any rate carry a pleasant remembrance of you +into the next world! If on the contrary I should survive the combat of +the morning, I hope to see you all again on my marriage-day, when +nothing shall occur to mar our merriment. In the meantime—good-night!" +</P> + +<P> +They closed round me, pressing my hands warmly and assuring me of their +entire sympathy with me in the quarrel that had occurred. The duke was +especially cordial, giving me to understand that had the others failed +in their services, he himself, in spite of his dignity and peace-loving +disposition, would have volunteered as my second. I escaped from them +all at last and reached the quiet of my own apartments. There I sat +alone for more than an hour, waiting for the return of Vincenzo, whom I +had sent to track Ferrari. I heard the departing footsteps of my guests +as they left the hotel by twos and threes—I heard the equable voices +of the marquis and Captain Freccia ordering hot coffee to be served to +them in a private room where they were to await the other seconds—now +and then I caught a few words of the excited language of the waiters +who were volubly discussing the affair as they cleared away the remains +of the superb feast at which, though none knew it save myself, death +had been seated. Thirteen at table! One was a traitor and one must die. +I knew which one. No presentiment lurked in my mind as to the doubtful +result of the coming combat. It was not my lot to fall—my time had not +come yet—I felt certain of that! No! All the fateful forces of the +universe would help me to keep alive till my vengeance was fulfilled. +Oh, what bitter shafts of agony Ferrari carried in his heart at that +moment, I thought. HOW he had looked when I said she never cared for +him! Poor wretch! I pitied him even while I rejoiced at his torture. He +suffered now as I had suffered—he was duped as I had been duped—and +each quiver of his convulsed face and tormented frame had been fraught +with satisfaction to me! Each moment of his life was now a pang to him. +Well! it would soon be over—thus far at least I was merciful. I drew +out pens and paper and commenced to write a few last instructions, in +case the result of the fight should be fatal to me. I made them very +concise and brief—I knew, while writing, that they would not be +needed. Still—for the sake of form I wrote—and sealing the document, +I directed it to the Duke di Marina. I looked at my watch—it was past +one o'clock and Vincenzo had not yet returned. I went to the window, +and drawing back the curtains, surveyed the exquisitely peaceful scene +that lay before me. The moon was still high and bright—and her +reflection made the waters of the bay appear like a warrior's coat of +mail woven from a thousand glittering links of polished steel. Here and +there, from the masts of anchored brigs and fishing-boats gleamed a few +red and green lights burning dimly like fallen and expiring stars. +There was a heavy unnatural silence everywhere—it oppressed me, and I +threw the window wide open for air. Then came the sound of bells +chiming softly. People passed to and fro with quiet footsteps—some +paused to exchange friendly greetings. I remembered the day with a sort +of pang at my heart. The night was over, though as yet there was no +sign of dawn—and—it was Christmas morning! +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap25"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXV. +</H3> + +<P> +The opening of the room door aroused me from my meditations. I +turned—to find Vincenzo standing near me, hat in hand—he had just +entered. +</P> + +<P> +"Ebbene!" I said, with a cheerful air—"what news?" +</P> + +<P> +"Eccellenza, you have been obeyed. The young Signor Ferrari is now at +his studio." +</P> + +<P> +"You left him there?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, eccellenza"—and Vincenzo proceeded to give me a graphic account +of his adventures. On leaving the banqueting-room, Ferrari had taken a +carriage and driven straight to the Villa Romani—Vincenzo, +unperceived, had swung himself on to the back of the vehicle and had +gone also. +</P> + +<P> +"Arriving there," continued my valet, "he dismissed the fiacre—and +rang the gate-bell furiously six or seven times. No one answered. I hid +myself among the trees and watched. There were no lights in the villa +windows—all was darkness. He rang it again—he even shook the gate as +though he would break it open. At last the poor Giacomo came, half +undressed and holding a lantern in his hand—he seemed terrified, and +trembled so much that the lantern jogged up and down like a +corpse-candle on a tomb. +</P> + +<P> +"'I must see the contessa,' said the young signor, Giacomo blinked like +an owl, and coughed as though the devil scratched in his throat. +</P> + +<P> +"'The contessa!' he said. 'She is gone!' +</P> + +<P> +"The signor then threw himself upon Giacomo and shook him to and fro as +though he were a bag of loose wheat. +</P> + +<P> +"'Gone!' and he screamed like a madman! 'WHERE? Tell me WHERE, dolt! +idiot! driveler! before I twist your neck for you!' +</P> + +<P> +"Truly, eccellenza, I would have gone to the rescue of the poor +Giacomo, but respect for your commands kept me silent. 'A thousand +pardons, signor!' he whispered, out of breath with his shaking.' I will +tell you instantly—most instantly. She is at the Convento dell' +Annunziata—ten miles from here—the saints know I speak the truth—she +left two days since.' +</P> + +<P> +"The Signor Ferrari then flung away the unfortunate Giacomo with so +much force that he fell in a heap on the pavement and broke his lantern +to pieces. The old man set up a most pitiful groaning, but the signor +cared nothing for that. He was mad, I think. 'Get to bed!' he cried, +'and sleep—sleep till you die! Tell your mistress when you see her +that I came to kill her! My curse upon this house and all who dwell in +it!' And with that he ran so quickly through the garden into the +high-road that I had some trouble to follow him. There after walking +unsteadily for a few paces, he suddenly fell down, senseless." +</P> + +<P> +Vincenzo paused. "Well," I said, "what happened next?" +</P> + +<P> +"Eccellenza, I could not leave him there without aid. I drew my cloak +well up to my mouth and pulled my hat down over my eyes so that he +could not recognize me. Then I took water from the fountain close by +and dashed it on his face. He soon came to himself, and, taking me for +a stranger, thanked me for my assistance, saying that he had a sudden +shock. He then drank greedily from the fountain and went on his way." +</P> + +<P> +"You followed?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, eccellenza—at a little distance. He next visited a common tavern +in one of the back streets of the city and came out with two men. They +were well dressed—they had the air of gentlemen spoiled by bad +fortune. The signor talked with them for some time—he seemed much +excited. I could not hear what they said except at the end, when these +two strangers consented to appear as seconds for Signor Ferrari, and +they at once left him, to come straight to this hotel. And they are +arrived, for I saw them through a half-opened door as I came in, +talking with the Marquis D'Avencourt." +</P> + +<P> +"Well!" I said, "and what of Signor Ferrari when he was left alone by +his two friends?" +</P> + +<P> +"There is not much more to tell, eccellenza. He went up the little hill +to his own studio, and I noticed that he walked like a very old man +with his head bent. Once he stopped and shook his fist in the air as +though threatening some one. He let himself in at his door with a +private key—and I saw him no more. I felt that he would not come out +again for some time. And as I moved away to return here, I heard a +sound as of terrible weeping." +</P> + +<P> +"And that is all, Vincenzo?" +</P> + +<P> +"That is all, eccellenza." +</P> + +<P> +I was silent. There was something in the simple narration that touched +me, though I remained as determinately relentless as ever. After a few +moments I said: +</P> + +<P> +"You have done well, Vincenzo. You are aware how grossly this young man +has insulted me—and that his injurious treatment can only be wiped out +in one way. That way is already arranged. You can set out those pistols +you cleaned." +</P> + +<P> +Vincenzo obeyed—but as he lifted the heavy case of weapons and set +them on the table, he ventured to remark, timidly: +</P> + +<P> +"The eccellenza knows it is now Christmas-day?" +</P> + +<P> +"I am quite aware of the fact," I said somewhat frigidly. +</P> + +<P> +In nowise daunted he went on, "Coming back just now I saw the big +Nicolo—the eccellenza has doubtless seen him often?—he is a +vine-grower, and they say he is the largest man in Naples—three months +since he nearly killed his brother—ebbene! To-night that same big +Nicolo is drinking Chianti with that same brother, and both shouted +after me as I passed, 'Hola! Vincenzo Flamma! all is well between us +because it is the blessed Christ's birthday.'" Vincenzo stopped and +regarded me wistfully. +</P> + +<P> +"Well!" I said, calmly, "what has the big Nicolo or his brother to do +with me?" +</P> + +<P> +My valet hesitated—looked up—then down—finally he said, simply, "May +the saints preserve the eccellenza from all harm!" +</P> + +<P> +I smiled gravely. "Thank you, my friend! I understand what you mean. +Have no fear for me. I am now going to lie down and rest till five +o'clock or thereabouts—and I advise you to do the same. At that time +you can bring me some coffee." +</P> + +<P> +And I nodded kindly to him as I left him and entered my sleeping +apartment, where I threw myself on the bed, dressed as I was. I had no +intention of sleeping—my mind was too deeply engrossed by all I had +gone through. I could enter into Guido's feelings—had I not suffered +as he was now suffering?—nay! more than he—for HE, at any rate, would +not be buried alive! I should take care of that! HE would not have to +endure the agony of breaking loose from the cold grasp of the grave to +come back to life and find his name slandered, and his vacant place +filled up by a usurper. Do what I would, I could not torture him as +much as I myself had been tortured. That was a pity—death, sudden and +almost painless, seemed too good for him. I held up my hand in the half +light and watched it closely to see if it trembled ever so slightly. +No! it was steady as a rock—I felt I was sure of my aim. I would not +fire at his heart, I thought but just above it—for I had to remember +one thing—he must live long enough to recognize me before he died. +THAT was the sting I reserved for his last moments! The sick dreams +that had bewildered my brain when I was taken ill at the auberge +recurred to me. I remembered the lithe figure, so like Guido, that had +glided in the Indian canoe toward me and had plunged a dagger three +times in my heart? Had it not been realized? Had not Guido stabbed me +thrice?—in his theft of my wife's affections—in his contempt for my +little dead child—in his slanders on my name? Then why such foolish +notions of pity—of forgiveness, that were beginning to steal into my +mind? It was too late now for forgiveness—the very idea of it only +rose out of a silly sentimentalism awakened by Ferrari's allusion to +our young days—days for which, after all, he really cared nothing. +Meditating on all these things, I suppose I must have fallen by +imperceptible degrees into a doze which gradually deepened till it +became a profound and refreshing sleep. From this I was awakened by a +knocking at the door. I arose and admitted Vincenzo, who entered +bearing a tray of steaming coffee. +</P> + +<P> +"Is it already so late?" I asked him. +</P> + +<P> +"It wants a quarter to five," replied Vincenzo—then looking at me in +some surprise, he added, "Will not the eccellenza change his +evening-dress?" +</P> + +<P> +I nodded in the affirmative—and while I drank my coffee my valet set +out a suit of rough tweed, such as I was accustomed to wear every day. +He then left me, and I quickly changed my attire, and while I did so I +considered carefully the position of affairs. Neither the Marquis +D'Avencourt nor Captain Freccia had ever known me personally when I was +Fabio Romani—nor was it at all probable that the two tavern companions +of Ferrari had ever seen me. A surgeon would be on the field—most +probably a stranger. Thinking over these points, I resolved on a bold +stroke—it was this—that when I turned to face Ferrari in the combat, +I would do so with uncovered eyes—I would abjure my spectacles +altogether for the occasion. Vaguely I wondered what the effect would +be upon him. I was very much changed even without these disguising +glasses—my white beard and hair had seemingly altered my aspect—yet I +knew there was something familiar in the expression of my eyes that +could not fail to startle one who had known me well. My seconds would +consider it very natural that I should remove the smoke-colored +spectacles in order to see my aim unencumbered—the only person likely +to be disconcerted by my action was Ferrari himself. The more I thought +of it the more determined I was to do it. I had scarcely finished +dressing when Vincenzo entered with my overcoat, and informed me that +the marquis waited for me, and that a close carriage was in attendance +at the private door of the hotel. +</P> + +<P> +"Permit me to accompany you, eccellenza!" pleaded the faithful fellow, +with anxiety in the tone of his voice. +</P> + +<P> +"Come then, amico!" I said, cheerily. "If the marquis makes no +objection I shall not. But you must promise not to interrupt any of the +proceedings by so much as an exclamation." +</P> + +<P> +He promised readily, and when I joined the marquis he followed, +carrying my case of pistols. +</P> + +<P> +"He can be trusted, I suppose?" asked D'Avencourt, glancing keenly at +him while shaking hands cordially with me. +</P> + +<P> +"To the death!" I replied, laughingly. "He will break his heart if he +is not allowed to bind up my wounds!" +</P> + +<P> +"I see you are in good spirits, conte," remarked Captain Freccia, as we +took our seats in the carriage. "It is always the way with the man who +is in the right. Ferrari, I fear, is not quite so comfortable." +</P> + +<P> +And he proffered me a cigar, which I accepted. Just as we were about to +start, the fat landlord of the hotel rushed toward us, and laying hold +of the carriage door—"Eccellenza," he observed in a confidential +whisper, "of course this is only a matter of coffee and glorias? They +will be ready for you all on your return. I know—I understand!" And he +smiled and nodded a great many times, and laid his finger knowingly on +the side of his nose. We laughed heartily, assuring him that his +perspicuity was wonderful, and he stood on the broad steps in high good +humor, watching us as our vehicle rumbled heavily away. +</P> + +<P> +"Evidently," I remarked, "he does not consider a duel as a serious +affair." +</P> + +<P> +"Not he!" replied Freccia. "He has known of too many sham fights to be +able to understand a real one. D'Avencourt knows something about that +too, though he always kills his man. But very often it is sufficient to +scratch one another with the sword-point so as to draw a quarter of a +drop of blood, and honor is satisfied! Then the coffee and glorias are +brought, as suggested by our friend the landlord." +</P> + +<P> +"It is a ridiculous age," said the marquis, taking his cigar from his +mouth, and complacently surveying his small, supple white hand, +"thoroughly ridiculous, but I determined it should never make a fool of +ME. You see, my dear conte, nowadays a duel is very frequently decided +with swords rather than pistols, and why? Because cowards fancy it is +much more difficult to kill with the sword. But not at all. Long ago I +made up my mind that no man should continue to live who dared to insult +me. I therefore studied swordplay as an art. And I assure you it is a +simple matter to kill with the sword—remarkably simple. My opponents +are astonished at the ease with which I dispatch them!" +</P> + +<P> +Freccia laughed. "De Hamal is a pupil of yours, marquis, is he not?" +</P> + +<P> +"I regret to say yes! He is marvelously clumsy. I have often earnestly +requested him to eat his sword rather than handle it so boorishly. Yet +he kills his men, too, but in a butcher-like manner—totally without +grace or refinement. I should say he was about on a par with our two +associates, Ferrari's seconds." +</P> + +<P> +I roused myself from a reverie into which I had fallen. +</P> + +<P> +"What men are they?" I inquired. +</P> + +<P> +"One calls himself the Capitano Ciabatti, the other Cavaliere Dursi, at +your service," answered Freccia, indifferently. "Good swearers both and +hard drinkers—filled with stock phrases, such as 'our distinguished +dear friend, Ferrari, 'wrongs which can only be wiped out by +blood'—all bombast and braggadocio! These fellows would as soon be on +one side as the other." +</P> + +<P> +He resumed his smoking, and we all three lapsed into silence. The drive +seemed very long, though in reality the distance was not great. At last +we passed the Casa Ghirlande, a superb chateau belonging to a +distinguished nobleman who in former days had been a friendly neighbor +to me, and then our vehicle jolted down a gentle declivity which sloped +into a small valley, where there was a good-sized piece of smooth flat +greensward. From this spot could be faintly discerned the castellated +turrets of my own house, the Villa Romani. Here we came to a +standstill. Vincenzo jumped briskly down from his seat beside the +coachman, and assisted us to alight. The carriage then drove off to a +retired corner behind some trees. We surveyed the ground, and saw that +as yet only one person beside ourselves had arrived. This was the +surgeon, a dapper good-humored little German who spoke bad French and +worse Italian, and who shook hands cordially with us all. On learning +who I was he bowed low and smiled very amiably. "The best wish I can +offer to you, signor," he said, "is that you may have no occasion for +my services. You have reposed yourself? That is well—sleep steadies +the nerves. Ach! you shiver! True it is, the morning is cold." +</P> + +<P> +I did indeed experience a passing shudder, but not because the air was +chilly. It was because I felt certain—so terribly certain, of killing +the man I had once loved well. Almost I wished I could also feel that +there was the slightest possibility of his killing me; but no!—all my +instincts told me there was no chance of this. I had a sort of sick +pain at my heart, and as I thought of HER, the jewel-eyed snake who had +wrought all the evil, my wrath against her increased tenfold. I +wondered scornfully what she was doing away in the quiet convent where +the sacred Host, unveiled, glittered on the altar like a star of the +morning. No doubt she slept; it was yet too early for her to practice +her sham sanctity. She slept, in all probability most peacefully, while +her husband and her lover called upon death to come and decide between +them. The slow clear strokes of a bell chiming from the city tolled +six, and as its last echo trembled mournfully on the wind there was a +slight stir among my companions. I looked and saw Ferrari approaching +with his two associates. He walked slowly, and was muffled in a thick +cloak; his hat was pulled over his brows, and I could not see the +expression of his face, as he did not turn his head once in my +direction, but stood apart leaning against the trunk of a leafless +tree. The seconds on both sides now commenced measuring the ground. +</P> + +<P> +"We are agreed as to the distance, gentlemen," said the marquis. +"Twenty paces, I think?" +</P> + +<P> +"Twenty paces," stiffly returned one of Ferrari's friends—a +battered-looking middle-aged roue with ferocious mustachios, whom I +presumed was Captain Ciabatti. +</P> + +<P> +They went on measuring carefully and in silence. During the pause I +turned my back on the whole party, slipped off my spectacles and put +them in my pocket. Then I lowered the brim of my hat slightly so that +the change might not be observed too suddenly—and resuming my first +position, I waited. It was daylight though not full morning—the sun +had not yet risen, but there was an opaline luster in the sky, and one +pale pink streak in the east like the floating pennon from the lance of +a hero, which heralded his approach. There was a gentle twittering of +awakening birds—the grass sparkled with a million tiny drops of frosty +dew. A curious calmness possessed me. I felt for the time as though I +were a mechanical automaton moved by some other will than my own. I had +no passion left. +</P> + +<P> +The weapons were now loaded—and the marquis, looking about him with a +cheerful business-like air, remarked: +</P> + +<P> +"I think we may now place our men?" +</P> + +<P> +This suggestion agreed to, Ferrari left his place near the tree against +which he had in part inclined as though fatigued, and advanced to the +spot his seconds pointed out to him. He threw off his hat and overcoat, +thereby showing that he was still in his evening-dress. His face was +haggard and of a sickly paleness—his eyes had dark rings of pain round +them, and were full of a keen and bitter anguish. He eagerly grasped +the pistol they handed to him, and examined it closely with vengeful +interest. I meanwhile also threw off my hat and coat—the marquis +glanced at me with careless approval. +</P> + +<P> +"You look a much younger man without your spectacles, conte," he +remarked as he handed me my weapon. I smiled indifferently, and took up +my position at the distance indicated, exactly opposite Ferrari. He was +still occupied in the examination of his pistol, and did not at once +look up. +</P> + +<P> +"Are we ready, gentlemen?" demanded Freccia, with courteous coldness. +</P> + +<P> +"Quite ready," was the response. The Marquis D'Avencourt took out his +handkerchief. Then Ferrari raised his head and faced me fully for the +first time. Great Heaven! shall I ever forget the awful change that +came over his pallid countenance—the confused mad look of his +eyes—the startled horror of his expression! His lips moved as though +he were about to utter an exclamation—he staggered. +</P> + +<P> +"One!" cried D'Avencourt. +</P> + +<P> +We raised our weapons. +</P> + +<P> +"Two!" +</P> + +<P> +The scared and bewildered expression of Ferrari's face deepened visibly +as he eyed me steadily in taking aim. I smiled proudly—I gave him back +glance for glance—I saw him waver—his hand shook. +</P> + +<P> +"Three!" and the white handkerchief fluttered to the ground. Instantly, +and together, we fired. Ferrari's bullet whizzed past me, merely +tearing my coat and grazing my shoulder. The smoke cleared—Ferrari +still stood erect, opposite to me, staring straight forward with the +same frantic faroff look—the pistol had dropped from his hand. +Suddenly he threw up his arms—shuddered—and with a smothered groan +fell, face forward, prone on the sward. The surgeon hurried to his side +and turned him so that he lay on his back. He was unconscious—though +his dark eyes were wide open, and turned blindly upward to the sky. The +front of his shirt was already soaked with blood. We all gathered round +him. +</P> + +<P> +"A good shot?" inquired the marquis, with the indifference of a +practiced duelist. +</P> + +<P> +"Ach! a good shot indeed!" replied the little German doctor, shaking +his head as he rose from his examination of the wound. "Excellent! He +will be dead in ten minutes. The bullet has passed through the lungs +close to the heart. Honor is satisfied certainly!" +</P> + +<P> +At that moment a deep anguished sigh parted the lips of the dying man. +Sense and speculation returned to those glaring eyes so awfully +upturned. He looked upon us all doubtfully one after the other—till +finally his gaze rested upon me. Then he grew strangely excited—his +lips moved—he eagerly tried to speak. The doctor, watchful of his +movements, poured brandy between his teeth. The cordial gave him +momentary strength—he raised himself by a supreme effort. +</P> + +<P> +"Let me speak," he gasped faintly, "to HIM!" And he pointed to me—then +he continued to mutter like a man in a dream—"to +him—alone—alone!—to him alone!" +</P> + +<P> +The others, slightly awed by his manner, drew aside out of ear-shot, +and I advanced and knelt beside him, stooping my face between his and +the morning sky. His wild eyes met mine with a piteous beseeching +terror. +</P> + +<P> +"In God's name," he whispered, thickly, "WHO ARE YOU?" +</P> + +<P> +"You know me, Guido!" I answered, steadily. "I am Fabio Romani, whom +you once called friend! I am he whose wife you stole!—whose name you +slandered!—whose honor you despised! Ah! look at me well! your own +heart tells you who I am!" +</P> + +<P> +He uttered a low moan and raised his hand with a feeble gesture. +</P> + +<P> +"Fabio? Fabio?" he gasped. "He died—I saw him in his coffin—" +</P> + +<P> +I leaned more closely over him. "I was BURIED ALIVE," I said with +thrilling distinctness. "Understand me, Guido—buried alive! I +escaped—no matter how. I came home—to learn your treachery and my own +dishonor! Shall I tell you more?" +</P> + +<P> +A terrible shudder shook his frame—his head moved restlessly to and +fro, the sweat stood in large drops upon his forehead. With my own +handkerchief I wiped his lips and brow tenderly—my nerves were strung +up to an almost brittle tension—I smiled as a woman smiles when on the +verge of hysterical weeping. +</P> + +<P> +"You know the avenue," I said, "the dear old avenue, where the +nightingales sing? I saw you there, Guido—with HER!—on the very night +of my return from death—SHE was in your arms—you kissed her—you +spoke of me—you toyed with the necklace on her white breast!" +</P> + +<P> +He writhed under my gaze with a strong convulsive movement. +</P> + +<P> +"Tell me—quick!" he gasped. "Does—SHE—know you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not yet!" I answered, slowly. "But soon she will—when I have married +her!" +</P> + +<P> +A look of bitter anguish filled his straining eyes. "Oh, God, God!" he +exclaimed with a groan like that of a wild beast in pain. "This is +horrible, too horrible! Spare me—spare—" A rush of blood choked his +utterance. His breathing grew fainter and fainter; the livid hue of +approaching dissolution spread itself gradually over his countenance. +Staring wildly at me, he groped with his hands as though he searched +for some lost thing. I took one of those feebly wandering hands within +my own, and held it closely clasped. +</P> + +<P> +"You know the rest," I said gently; "you understand my vengeance! But +it is all over, Guido—all over, now! She has played us both false. May +God forgive you as I do!" +</P> + +<P> +He smiled—a soft look brightened his fast-glazing eyes—the old boyish +look that had won my love in former days. +</P> + +<P> +"All over!" he repeated in a sort of plaintive babble. "All over now! +God—Fabio—forgive!—" A terrible convulsion wrenched and contorted +his limbs and features, his throat rattled, and stretching himself out +with a long shivering sigh—he died! The first beams of the rising sun, +piercing through the dark, moss-covered branches of the pine-trees, +fell on his clustering hair, and lent a mocking brilliancy to his +wide-open sightless eyes: there was a smile on the closed lips! A +burning, suffocating sensation rose in my throat, as of rebellious +tears trying to force a passage. I still held the hand of my friend and +enemy—it had grown cold in my clasp. Upon it sparkled my family +diamond—the ring SHE had given him. I drew the jewel off: then I +kissed that poor passive hand as I laid it gently down—kissed it +tenderly, reverently. Hearing footsteps approaching, I rose from my +kneeling posture and stood erect with folded arms, looking tearlessly +down on the stiffening clay before me. The rest of the party came up; +no one spoke for a minute, all surveyed the dead body in silence. At +last Captain Freccia said, softly in half-inquiring accents: +</P> + +<P> +"He is gone, I suppose?" +</P> + +<P> +I bowed. I could not trust myself to speak. +</P> + +<P> +"He made you his apology?" asked the marquis. +</P> + +<P> +I bowed again. There was another pause of heavy silence. The rigid +smiling face of the corpse seemed to mock all speech. The doctor +stooped and skillfully closed those glazed appealing eyes—and then it +seemed to me as though Guido merely slept and that a touch would waken +him. The Marquis D'Avencourt took me by the arm and whispered, "Get +back to the city, amico, and take some wine—you look positively ill! +Your evident regret does you credit, considering the circumstances—but +what would you?—it was a fair fight. Consider the provocation you had! +I should advise you to leave Naples for a couple of weeks—by that time +the affair will be forgotten. I know how these things are +managed—leave it all to me." +</P> + +<P> +I thanked him and shook his hand cordially and turned to depart. +Vincenzo was in waiting with the carriage. Once I looked back, as with +slow steps I left the field; a golden radiance illumined the sky just +above the stark figure stretched so straightly on the sward; while +almost from the very side of that pulseless heart a little bird rose +from its nest among the grasses and soared into the heavens, singing +rapturously as it flew into the warmth and glory of the living, +breathing day. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap26"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXVI. +</H3> + +<P> +Entering the fiacre, I drove in it a very little way toward the city. I +bade the driver stop at the corner of the winding road that led to the +Villa Romani, and there I alighted. I ordered Vincenzo to go on to the +hotel and send from thence my own carriage and horses up to the villa +gates, where I would wait for it. I also bade him pack my portmanteau +in readiness for my departure that evening, as I proposed going to +Avellino, among the mountains, for a few days. He heard my commands in +silence and evident embarrassment. Finally he said: +</P> + +<P> +"Do I also travel with the eccellenza?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why, no!" I answered with a forced sad smile. "Do you not see, amico, +that I am heavy-hearted, and melancholy men are best left to +themselves. Besides—remember the carnival—I told you you were free to +indulge in its merriment, and shall I not deprive you of your pleasure? +No, Vincenzo; stay and enjoy yourself, and take no concern for me." +</P> + +<P> +Vincenzo saluted me with his usual respectful bow, but his features +wore an expression of obstinacy. +</P> + +<P> +"The eccellenza must pardon me," he said, "but I have just looked at +death, and my taste is spoiled for carnival. Again—the eccellenza is +sad—it is necessary that I should accompany him to Avellino." +</P> + +<P> +I saw that his mind was made up, and I was in no humor for argument. +</P> + +<P> +"As you will," I answered, wearily, "only believe me, you make a +foolish decision. But do what you like; only arrange all so that we +leave to-night. And now get back quickly—give no explanation at the +hotel of what has occurred, and lose no time in sending on my carriage. +I will wait alone at the Villa Romani till it comes." +</P> + +<P> +The vehicle rumbled off, bearing Vincenzo seated on the box beside the +driver. I watched it disappear, and then turned into the road that led +me to my own dishonored home. The place looked silent and deserted—not +a soul was stirring. The silken blinds of the reception-rooms were all +closely drawn, showing that the mistress of the house was absent; it +was as if some one lay dead within. A vague wonderment arose in my +mind. WHO was dead? Surely it must be I—I the master of the household, +who lay stiff and cold in one of those curtained rooms! This terrible +white-haired man who roamed feverishly up and down outside the walls +was not me—it was some angry demon risen from the grave to wreak +punishment on the guilty. <I>I</I> was dead—<I>I</I> could never have killed the +man who had once been my friend. And he also was dead—the same +murderess had slain us both—and SHE lived! Ha! that was wrong—she +must now die—but in such torture that her very soul shall shrink and +shrivel under it into a devil's flame for the furnace of hell! +</P> + +<P> +With my brain full of hot whirling thoughts like these I looked through +the carved heraldic work of the villa gates. Here had Guido stood, poor +wretch, last night, shaking these twisted wreaths of iron in impotent +fury. There on the mosaic pavement he had flung the trembling old +servant who had told him of the absence of his traitress. On this very +spot he had launched his curse, which, though he knew it not, was the +curse of a dying man. I was glad he had uttered it—such maledictions +cling! There was nothing but compassion for him in my heart now that he +was dead. He had been duped and wronged even as I; and I felt that his +spirit, released from its grosser clay, would work with mine and aid in +her punishment. +</P> + +<P> +I paced round the silent house till I came to the private wicket that +led into the avenue; I opened it and entered the familiar path. I had +not been there since the fatal night on which I had learned my own +betrayal. How intensely still were those solemn pines—how gaunt and +dark and grim! Not a branch quivered—not a leaf stirred. A cold dew +that was scarcely a frost glittered on the moss at my feet, No bird's +voice broke the impressive hush of the wood-lands morning dream. No +bright-hued flower unbuttoned its fairy cloak to the breeze; yet there +was a subtle perfume everywhere—the fragrance of unseen violets whose +purple eyes were still closed in slumber. +</P> + +<P> +I gazed on the scene as a man may behold in a vision the spot where he +once was happy. I walked a few paces, then paused with a strange +beating at my heart. A shadow fell across my path—it flitted before +me, it stopped—it lay still. I saw it resolve itself into the figure +of a man stretched out in rigid silence, with the light beating full on +its smiling, dead face, and also on a deep wound just above his heart, +from which the blood oozed redly, staining the grass on which he lay. +Mastering the sick horror which seized me at this sight, I sprung +forward—the shadow vanished instantly—it was a mere optical delusion, +the result of my overwrought and excited condition. I shuddered +involuntarily at the image my own heated fancy had conjured up; should +I always see Guido thus, I thought, even in my dreams? +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly a ringing, swaying rush of sound burst joyously on the +silence—the slumbering trees awoke, their leaves moved, their dark +branches quivered, and the grasses lifted up their green lilliputian +sword-blades. Bells!—and SUCH bells!—tongues of melody that stormed +the air with sweetest eloquence—round, rainbow bubbles of music that +burst upon the wind, and dispersed in delicate broken echoes. +</P> + +<P> +"Peace on earth, good will to men! +Peace—on—earth—good—will—to—men!" they seemed to say over and +over again, till my ears ached with the repetition. Peace! What had I +to do with peace or good-will? The Christ Mass could teach me nothing. +I was as one apart from human life-an alien from its customs and +affections—for me no love, no brotherhood remained. The swinging song +of the chimes jarred my nerves. Why, I thought, should the wild erring +world, with all its wicked men and women, presume to rejoice at the +birth of the Saviour?—they, who were not worthy to be saved! I turned +swiftly away; I strode fiercely past the kingly pines that, now +thoroughly awakened, seemed to note me with a stern disdain as though +they said among themselves: "What manner of small creature is this that +torments himself with passions unknown to US in our calm converse with +the stars?" +</P> + +<P> +I was glad when I stood again on the high-road, and infinitely relieved +when I heard the rapid trot of horses rumbling of wheels, and saw my +closed brougham, drawn by its prancing black Arabians, approaching. I +walked to meet it; the coachman seeing me drew up instantly, I bade him +take me to the Convento dell'Annunziata, and entering the carriage, I +was driven rapidly away. +</P> + +<P> +The convent was situated, I knew, somewhere between Naples and +Sorrento. I guessed it to be near Castellamare, but it was fully three +miles beyond that, and was a somewhat long drive of more than two +hours. It lay a good distance out of the direct route, and was only +attained by a by-road, which from its rough and broken condition was +evidently not much frequented. The building stood apart from all other +habitations in a large open piece of ground, fenced in by a high stone +wall spiked at the top. Roses climbed thickly among the spikes, and +almost hid their sharp points from view, and from a perfect nest of +green foliage, the slender spire of the convent chapel rose into the +sky like a white finger pointing to heaven. My coachman drew up before +the heavily barred gates. I alighted, and bade him take the carriage to +the principal hostelry at Castellamare, and wait for me there. As soon +as he had driven off, I rang the convent bell. A little wicket fixed in +the gate opened immediately, and the wrinkled visage of a very old and +ugly nun looked out. She demanded in low tones what I sought. I handed +her my card, and stated my desire to see the Countess Romani, if +agreeable to the superioress. While I spoke she looked at me +curiously—my spectacles, I suppose, excited her wonder—for I had +replaced these disguising glasses immediately on leaving the scene of +the duel—I needed them yet a little while longer. After peering at me +a minute or two with her bleared and aged eyes, she shut the wicket in +my face with a smart click and disappeared. While I awaited her return +I heard the sound of children's laughter and light footsteps running +trippingly on the stone passage within. +</P> + +<P> +"Fi donc, Rosie!" said the girl's voice in French; "la bonne Mere +Marguerite sera tres tres fachee avec toi." +</P> + +<P> +"Tais-toi, petite sainte!" cried another voice more piercing and +silvery in tone. "Je veux voir qui est la! C'est un homme je sais +bien—parceque la vieille Mere Laura a rougi!" and both young voices +broke into a chorus of renewed laughter. +</P> + +<P> +Then came the shuffling noise of the old nun's footsteps returning; she +evidently caught the two truants, whoever they were, for I heard her +expostulating, scolding and apostrophizing the saints all in a breath, +as she bade them go inside the house and ask the good little Jesus to +forgive their naughtiness. A silence ensued, then the bolts and bars of +the huge gate were undone slowly—it opened, and I was admitted. I +raised my hat as I entered, and walked bareheaded through a long, cold +corridor, guided by the venerable nun, who looked at me no more, but +told her beads as she walked, and never spoke till she had led me into +the building, through a lofty hall glorious with sacred paintings and +statues, and from thence into a large, elegantly furnished room, whose +windows commanded a fine view of the grounds. Here she motioned me to +take a seat, and without lifting her eyelids, said: +</P> + +<P> +"Mother Marguerite will wait upon you instantly, signor." +</P> + +<P> +I bowed, and she glided from the room so noiselessly that I did not +even hear the door close behind her. Left alone in what I rightly +concluded was the reception-room for visitors, I looked about me with +some faint interest and curiosity. I had never before seen the interior +of what is known as an educational convent. There were many photographs +on the walls and mantelpiece—portraits of girls, some plain of face +and form, others beautiful—no doubt they had all been sent to the nuns +as souvenirs of former pupils. Rising from my chair I examined a few of +them carelessly, and was about to inspect a fine copy of Murillo's +Virgin, when my attention was caught by an upright velvet frame +surmounted with my own crest and coronet. In it was the portrait of my +wife, taken in her bridal dress, as she looked when she married me. I +took it to the light and stared at the features dubiously. This was +she—this slim, fairy-like creature clad in gossamer white, with the +marriage veil thrown back from her clustering hair and child-like +face—this was the THING for which two men's lives had been sacrificed! +With a movement of disgust I replaced the frame in its former position; +I had scarcely done so when the door opened quietly and a tall woman, +clad in trailing robes of pale blue with a nun's band and veil of fine +white cashmere, stood before me. I saluted her with a deep reverence; +she responded by the slightest possible bend of her head. Her outward +manner was so very still and composed that when she spoke her colorless +lips scarcely moved, her very breathing never stirred the silver +crucifix that lay like a glittering sign-manual on her quiet breast. +Her voice, though low, was singularly clear and penetrating. +</P> + +<P> +"I address the Count Oliva?" she inquired. +</P> + +<P> +I bowed in the affirmative. She looked at me keenly: she had dark, +brilliant eyes, in which the smoldering fires of many a conquered +passion still gleamed. +</P> + +<P> +"You would see the Countess Romani, who is in retreat here?" +</P> + +<P> +"If not inconvenient or out of rule—" I began. +</P> + +<P> +The shadow of a smile flitted across the nun's pale, intellectual face; +it was gone almost as soon as it appeared. +</P> + +<P> +"Not at all," she replied, in the same even monotone. "The Countess +Nina is, by her own desire, following a strict regime, but to-day being +a universal feast-day all rules are somewhat relaxed. The reverend +mother desires me to inform you that it is now the hour for mass—she +has herself already entered the chapel. If you will share in our +devotions, the countess shall afterward be informed of your presence +here." +</P> + +<P> +I could do no less than accede to this proposition, though in truth it +was unwelcome to me. I was in no humor for either prayers or praise; I +thought moodily how startled even this impassive nun might have been, +could she have known what manner of man it was that she thus invited to +kneel in the sanctuary. However, I said no word of objection, and she +bade me follow her. As we left the room I asked: +</P> + +<P> +"Is the countess well?" +</P> + +<P> +"She seems so," returned Mere Marguerite; "she follows her religious +duties with exactitude, and makes no complaint of fatigue." +</P> + +<P> +We were now crossing the hall. I ventured on another inquiry. +</P> + +<P> +"She was a favorite pupil of yours, I believe?" +</P> + +<P> +The nun turned her passionless face toward me with an air of mild +surprise and reproof. +</P> + +<P> +"I have no favorites," she answered, coldly. "All the children educated +here share my attention and regard equally." +</P> + +<P> +I murmured an apology, and added with a forced smile: +</P> + +<P> +"You must pardon my apparent inquisitiveness, but as the future husband +of the lady who was brought up under your care, I am naturally +interested in all that concerns her." +</P> + +<P> +Again the searching eyes of the religieuse surveyed me; she sighed +slightly. +</P> + +<P> +"I am aware of the connection between you," she said, in rather a +pained tone. "Nina Romani belongs to the world, and follows the ways of +the world. Of course, marriage is the natural fulfillment of most young +girls' destinies, there are comparatively few who are called out of the +ranks to serve Christ. Therefore, when Nina married the estimable Count +Romani, of whom report spoke ever favorably, we rejoiced greatly, +feeling that her future was safe in the hands of a gentle and wise +protector. May his soul rest in peace! But a second marriage for her is +what I did not expect, and what I cannot in my conscience approve. You +see I speak frankly." +</P> + +<P> +"I am honored that you do so, madame!" I said, earnestly, feeling a +certain respect for this sternly composed yet patient-featured woman; +"yet, though in general you may find many reasonable objections to it, +a second marriage is I think, in the Countess Romani's case almost +necessary. She is utterly without a protector—she is very young and +how beautiful!" +</P> + +<P> +The nun's eyes grew solemn and almost mournful. +</P> + +<P> +"Such beauty is a curse," she answered, with emphasis; "a fatal—a +fearful curse! As a child it made her wayward. As a woman it keeps her +wayward still. Enough of this, signor!" and she bowed her head; "excuse +my plain speaking. Rest assured that I wish you both happiness." +</P> + +<P> +We had by this time reached the door of the chapel, through which the +sound of the pealing organ poured forth in triumphal surges of melody. +Mere Marguerite dipped her fingers in the holy water, and signing +herself with the cross, pointed out a bench at the back of the church +as one that strangers were allowed to occupy. I seated myself, and +looked with a certain soothed admiration at the picturesque scene +before me. There was the sparkle of twinkling lights—the bloom and +fragrance of flowers. There were silent rows of nuns blue-robed and +white-veiled, kneeling and absorbed in prayer. Behind these a little +cluster of youthful figures in black, whose drooped heads were entirely +hidden in veils of flowing white muslin. Behind these again, one +woman's slight form arrayed in heavy mourning garments; her veil was +black, yet not so thick but that I could perceive the sheeny glitter of +golden hair—that was my wife, I knew. Pious angel! how devout she +looked! I smiled in dreary scorn as I watched her; I cursed her afresh +in the name of the man I had killed. And above all, surrounded with the +luster of golden rays and incrusted jewels, the uncovered Host shone +serenely like the gleam of the morning star. The stately service went +on—the organ music swept through and through the church as though it +were a strong wind striving to set itself free—but amid it all I sat +as one in a dark dream, scarcely seeing, scarcely hearing—inflexible +and cold as marble. The rich plaintive voice of one of the nuns in the +choir, singing the Agnus Dei, moved me to a chill sort of wonder. "Qui +tollis peccata mundi—Who takest away the sin of the world." No, no! +there are some sins that cannot be taken away—the sins of faithless +women, the "LITTLE" sins as they are called nowadays—for we have grown +very lenient in some things, and very severe in others. We will +imprison the miserable wretch who steals five francs from our pockets, +but the cunning feminine thief who robs us of our prestige, our name +and honorable standing among our fellow-men, escapes almost scot-free; +she cannot be put in prison, or sentenced to hard labor—not she! A +pity it is that Christ did not leave us some injunction as to what was +to be done with such women—not the penitent Magdalenes, but the +creatures whose mouths are full of lies even when they pretend to +pray—they who would be capable of trying to tempt the priest who comes +to receive their last confessions—they who would even act out a sham +repentance on their deathbeds in order to look well. What can be done +with devils such as these? Much has been said latterly of the wrongs +perpetrated on women by men; will no one take up the other side of the +question? We, the stronger sex, are weak in this—we are too +chivalrous. When a woman flings herself on our mercy we spare her and +are silent. Tortures will not wring her secrets out of us; something +holds us back from betraying her. I know not what it can be—perhaps it +is the memory of our mothers. Whatever it is, it is certain that many a +man allows himself to be disgraced rather than he will disgrace a +woman. But a time is at hand when this foolish chivalry of ours will +die out. On changera tout cela! When once our heavy masculine brains +shall have grasped the novel idea that woman has by her own wish and +choice resigned all claim on our respect or forbearance, we shall have +our revenge. We are slow to change the traditions of our forefathers, +but no doubt we shall soon manage to quench the last spark of knightly +reverence left in us for the female sex, as this is evidently the point +the women desire to bring us to. We shall meet them on that low +platform of the "equality" they seek for, and we shall treat them with +the unhesitating and regardless familiarity they so earnestly invite! +</P> + +<P> +Absorbed in thought, I knew not when the service ended. A hand touched +me, and looking up I saw Mere Marguerite, who whispered: +</P> + +<P> +"Follow me, if you please." +</P> + +<P> +I rose and obeyed her mechanically. Outside the chapel door she said: +</P> + +<P> +"Pray excuse me for hurrying you, but strangers are not permitted to +see the nuns and boarders passing out." +</P> + +<P> +I bowed, and walked on beside her. Feeling forced to say something, I +asked: +</P> + +<P> +"Have you many boarders at this holiday season?" +</P> + +<P> +"Only fourteen," she replied, "and they are children whose parents live +far away. Poor little ones!" and the set lines of the nun's stern face +softened into tenderness as she spoke. "We do our best to make them +happy, but naturally they feel lonely. We have generally fifty or sixty +young girls here, besides the day scholars." +</P> + +<P> +"A great responsibility," I remarked. +</P> + +<P> +"Very great indeed!" and she sighed; "almost terrible. So much of a +woman's after life depends on the early training she receives. We do +all we can, and yet in some cases our utmost efforts are in vain; evil +creeps in, we know not how—some unsuspected fault spoils a character +that we judged to be admirable, and we are often disappointed in our +most promising pupils. Alas! there is nothing entirely without blemish +in this world." +</P> + +<P> +Thus talking, she showed me into a small, comfortable-looking room, +lined with books and softly carpeted. +</P> + +<P> +"This is one of our libraries," she explained. "The countess will +receive you here, as other visitors might disturb you in the +drawing-room. Pardon me," and her steady gaze had something of +compassion in it, "but you do not look well. Can I send you some wine?" +</P> + +<P> +I declined this offer with many expressions of gratitude, and assured +her I was perfectly well. She hesitated, and at last said, anxiously: +</P> + +<P> +"I trust you were not offended at my remark concerning Nina Romani's +marriage with you? I fear I was too hasty?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not so, madame," I answered, with all the earnestness I felt. "Nothing +is more pleasant to me than a frank opinion frankly spoken. I have been +so accustomed to deception—" Here I broke off and added hastily, "Pray +do not think me capable of judging you wrongly." +</P> + +<P> +She seemed relieved, and smiling that shadowy, flitting smile of hers, +she said: +</P> + +<P> +"No doubt you are impatient, signor; Nina shall come to you directly," +and with a slight salutation she left me. +</P> + +<P> +Surely she was a good woman, I thought, and vaguely wondered about her +past history—that past which she had buried forever under a mountain +of prayers. What had she been like when young—before she had shut +herself within the convent walls—before she had set the crucifix like +a seal on her heart? Had she ever trapped a man's soul and strangled it +with lies? I fancied not—her look was too pure and candid; yet who +could tell? Were not Nina's eyes trained to appear as though they held +the very soul of truth? A few minutes passed. I heard the fresh voices +of children singing in the next room: +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + "D'ou vient le petit Gesu?<BR> + Ce joli bouton de rose<BR> + Qui fleurit, enfant cheri<BR> + Sur le coeur de notre mere Marie."<BR> +</P> + +<P> +Then came a soft rustle of silken garments, the door opened, and my +wife entered. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap27"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXVII. +</H3> + +<P> +She approached with her usual panther-like grace and supple movement, +her red lips parted in a charming smile. +</P> + +<P> +"So good of you to come!" she began, holding out her two hands as +though she invited an embrace; "and on Christmas morning too!" She +paused, and seeing that I did not move or speak, she regarded me with +some alarm. "What is the matter?" she asked, in fainter tones; "has +anything happened?" +</P> + +<P> +I looked at her. I saw that she was full of sudden fear, I made no +attempt to soothe her, I merely placed a chair. +</P> + +<P> +"Sit down," I said, gravely. "I am the bearer of bad news." +</P> + +<P> +She sunk into the chair as though unnerved, and gazed at me with +terrified eyes. She trembled. Watching her keenly, I observed all these +outward signs of trepidation with deep satisfaction. I saw plainly what +was passing in her mind. A great dread had seized her—the dread that I +had found out her treachery. So indeed I had, but the time had not yet +come for her to know it. Meanwhile she suffered—suffered acutely with +that gnawing terror and suspense eating into her soul. I said nothing, +I waited for her to speak. After a pause, during which her cheeks had +lost their delicate bloom, she said, forcing a smile as she spoke— +</P> + +<P> +"Bad news? You surprise me! What can it be? Some unpleasantness with +Guido? Have you seen him?" +</P> + +<P> +"I have seen him," I answered in the same formal and serious tone; "I +have just left him. He sends you THIS," and I held out my diamond ring +that I had drawn off the dead man's finger. +</P> + +<P> +If she had been pale before, she grew paler now. All the brilliancy of +her complexion faded for the moment into an awful haggardness. She took +the ring with fingers that shook visibly and were icy cold. There was +no attempt at smiling now. She drew a sharp quick breath; she thought I +knew all. I was again silent. She looked at the diamond signet with a +bewildered air. +</P> + +<P> +"I do not understand," she murmured, petulantly. "I gave him this as a +remembrance of his friend, my husband, why does he return it?" +</P> + +<P> +Self-tortured criminal! I studied her with a dark amusement, but +answered nothing. Suddenly she looked up at me and her eyes filled with +tears. +</P> + +<P> +"Why are you so cold and strange, Cesare?" she pleaded, in a sort of +plaintive whimper. "Do not stand there like a gloomy sentinel; kiss me +and tell me at once what has happened." +</P> + +<P> +Kiss her! So soon after kissing the dead hand of her lover! No, I could +not and would not. I remained standing where I was, inflexibly silent. +She glanced at me again, very timidly, and whimpered afresh. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, you do not love me!" she murmured. "You could not be so stern and +silent if you loved me! If there is indeed any bad news, you ought to +break it to me gently and kindly. I thought you would always make +everything easy for me—" +</P> + +<P> +"Such has been my endeavor, madame," I said interrupting her complaint. +"From your own statement, I judged that your adopted brother Guido +Ferrari had rendered himself obnoxious to you. I promised that I would +silence him—you remember! I have kept my word. He IS +silenced—forever!" +</P> + +<P> +She started. +</P> + +<P> +"Silenced? How? You mean—" +</P> + +<P> +I moved away from my place behind her chair, and stood so that I faced +her as I spoke. +</P> + +<P> +"I mean that he is dead." +</P> + +<P> +She uttered a slight cry, not of sorrow but of wonderment. +</P> + +<P> +"DEAD!" she exclaimed. "Not possible! Dead! You have killed him?" +</P> + +<P> +I bent my head gravely. "I killed him—yes! But in open combat, openly +witnessed. Last night he insulted me grossly; we fought this morning. +We forgave each other before he died." +</P> + +<P> +She listened attentively. A little color came back into her cheeks. +</P> + +<P> +"In what way did he insult you?" she asked, in a low voice. +</P> + +<P> +I told her all, briefly. She still looked anxious. +</P> + +<P> +"Did he mention my name?" she said. +</P> + +<P> +I glanced at her troubled features in profound contempt. She feared the +dying man might have made some confession to me! I answered: +</P> + +<P> +"No; not after our quarrel. But I hear he went to your house to kill +you! Not finding you there, he only cursed you." +</P> + +<P> +She heaved a sigh of relief. She was safe now, she thought! +</P> + +<P> +Her red lips widened into a cruel smile. +</P> + +<P> +"What bad taste!" she said, coldly. "Why he should curse me I cannot +imagine! I have always been kind to him—TOO kind." +</P> + +<P> +Too kind indeed! kind enough to be glad when the object of all her +kindness was dead! For she WAS glad! I could see that in the murderous +glitter of her eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"You are not sorry?" I inquired, with an air of pretended surprise. +</P> + +<P> +"Sorry? Not at all! Why should I be? He was a very agreeable friend +while my husband was alive to keep him in order, but after my poor +Fabio's death, his treatment of me was quite unbearable." +</P> + +<P> +Take care, beautiful hypocrite! take care! Take care lest your "poor +Fabio's" fingers should suddenly nip your slim throat with a convulsive +twitch that means death! Heaven only knows how I managed to keep my +hands off her at that moment! Why, any groveling beast of the field had +more feeling than this wretch whom I had made my wife! Even for Guido's +sake—such are the strange inconsistencies of the human heart—I could +have slain her then. But I restrained my fury; I steadied my voice and +said calmly: "Then I was mistaken? I thought you would be deeply +grieved, that my news would shock and annoy you greatly, hence my +gravity and apparent coldness. But it seems I have done well?" +</P> + +<P> +She sprung up from her chair like a pleased child and flung her arms +round my neck. +</P> + +<P> +"You are brave, you are brave!" she exclaimed, in a sort of exultation. +"You could not have done otherwise! He insulted you and you killed him. +That was right! I love you all the more for being such a man of honor!" +</P> + +<P> +I looked down upon her in loathing and disgust. Honor! Its very name +was libeled coming from HER lips. She did not notice the expression of +my face—she was absorbed, excellent actress as she was, in the part +she had chosen to play. +</P> + +<P> +"And so you were dull and sad because you feared to grieve me! Poor +Cesare!" she said, in child-like caressing accents, such as she could +assume when she chose. "But now that you see I am not unhappy, you will +be cheerful again? Yes? Think how much I love you, and how happy we +will be! And see, you have given me such lovely jewels, so many of them +too, that I scarcely dare offer you such a trifle as this; but as it +really belonged to Fabio, and to Fabio's father, whom you knew, I think +you ought to have it. Will you take it and wear it to please me?" and +she slipped on my finger the diamond signet—my own ring! +</P> + +<P> +I could have laughed aloud! but I bent my head gravely as I accepted it. +</P> + +<P> +"Only as a proof of your affection, cara mia," I said, "though it has a +terrible association for me. I took it from Ferrari's hand when—" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, yes, I know!" she interrupted me with a little shiver; "it must +have been trying for you to have seen him dead. I think dead people +look so horrid—the sight upsets the nerves! I remember when I was at +school here, they WOULD take me to see a nun who died; it sickened me +and made me ill for days. I can quite understand your feelings. But you +must try and forget the matter. Duels are very common occurrences, +after all!" +</P> + +<P> +"Very common," I answered, mechanically, still regarding the fair +upturned face, the lustrous eyes, the rippling hair; "but they do not +often end so fatally. The result of this one compels me to leave Naples +for some days. I go to Avellino to-night." +</P> + +<P> +"To Avellino?" she exclaimed, with interest. "Oh, I know it very well. +I went there once with Fabio when I was first married." +</P> + +<P> +"And were you happy there?" I inquired, coldly. +</P> + +<P> +I remembered the time she spoke of—a time of such unreasoning, foolish +joy! +</P> + +<P> +"Happy? Oh, yes; everything was so new to me then. It was delightful to +be my own mistress, and I was so glad to be out of the convent." +</P> + +<P> +"I thought you liked the nuns?" I said. +</P> + +<P> +"Some of them—yes. The reverend mother is a dear old thing. But Mere +Marguerite, the Vicaire as she is called—the one that received +you—oh, I do detest her!" +</P> + +<P> +"Indeed! and why?" +</P> + +<P> +The red lips curled mutinously. +</P> + +<P> +"Because she is so sly and silent. Some of the children here adore her; +but they MUST have something to love, you know," and she laughed +merrily. +</P> + +<P> +"Must they?" +</P> + +<P> +I asked the question automatically, merely for the sake of saying +something. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course they must," she answered, gayly. "You foolish Cesare! The +girls often play at being one another's lovers, only they are careful +not to let the nuns know their game. It is very amusing. Since I have +been here they have what is called a 'CRAZE' for me. They give me +flowers, run after me in the garden, and sometimes kiss my dress, and +call me by all manner of loving names. I let them do it because it +vexes Madame la Vicaire; but of course it is very foolish." +</P> + +<P> +I was silent. I thought what a curse it was—this necessity of loving. +Even the poison of it must find its way into the hearts of +children—young things shut within the walls of a secluded convent, and +guarded by the conscientious care of holy women. +</P> + +<P> +"And the nuns?" I said, uttering half my thoughts aloud. "How do they +manage without love or romance?" +</P> + +<P> +A wicked little smile, brilliant and disdainful, glittered in her eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"DO they always manage without love or romance?" she asked, half +indolently. "What of Abelard and Heloise, or Fra Lippi?" +</P> + +<P> +Roused by something in her tone, I caught her round the waist, and held +her firmly while I said, with some sternness: +</P> + +<P> +"And you—is it possible that YOU have sympathy with, or find amusement +in, the contemplation of illicit and dishonorable passion—tell me?" +</P> + +<P> +She recollected herself in time; her white eyelids drooped demurely. +</P> + +<P> +"Not I!" she answered, with a grave and virtuous air; "how can you +think so? There is nothing to my mind so horrible as deceit; no good +ever comes of it." +</P> + +<P> +I loosened her from my embrace. +</P> + +<P> +"You are right," I said, calmly; "I am glad your instincts are so +correct! I have always hated lies." +</P> + +<P> +"So have I!" she declared, earnestly, with a frank and open look; "I +have often wondered why people tell them. They are so sure to be found +out!" +</P> + +<P> +I bit my lips hard to shut in the burning accusations that my tongue +longed to utter. Why should I damn the actress or the play before the +curtain was ready to fall on both? I changed the subject of converse. +</P> + +<P> +"How long do you propose remaining here in retreat?" I asked. "There is +nothing now to prevent your returning to Naples." +</P> + +<P> +She pondered for some minutes before replying, then she said: +</P> + +<P> +"I told the superioress I came here for a week. I had better stay till +that time is expired. Not longer, because as Guido is really dead, my +presence is actually necessary in the city." +</P> + +<P> +"Indeed! May I ask why?" +</P> + +<P> +She laughed a little consciously. +</P> + +<P> +"Simply to prove his last will and testament," she replied. "Before he +left for Rome, he gave it into my keeping." +</P> + +<P> +A light flashed on my mind. +</P> + +<P> +"And its contents?" I inquired. +</P> + +<P> +"Its contents make ME the owner of everything he died possessed of!" +she said, with an air of quiet yet malicious triumph. +</P> + +<P> +Unhappy Guido! What trust he had reposed in this vile, self-interested, +heartless woman! He had loved her, even as I had loved her—she who was +unworthy of any love! I controlled my rising emotion, and merely said +with gravity: +</P> + +<P> +"I congratulate you! May I be permitted to see this document?" +</P> + +<P> +"Certainly; I can show it to you now. I have it here," and she drew a +Russia-leather letter-case from her pocket, and opening it, handed me a +sealed envelope. "Break the seal!" she added, with childish eagerness. +"He closed it up like that after I had read it." +</P> + +<P> +With reluctant hand, and a pained piteousness at my heart, I opened the +packet. It was as she had said, a will drawn up in perfectly legal +form, signed and witnessed, leaving everything UNCONDITIONALLY to +"Nina, Countess Romani, of the Villa Romani, Naples." I read it through +and returned it to her. +</P> + +<P> +"He must have loved you!" I said. +</P> + +<P> +She laughed. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course," she said, airily. "But many people love me—that is +nothing new; I am accustomed to be loved. But you see," she went on, +reverting to the will again, "it specifies, 'EVERYTHING HE DIES +POSSESSED OF;' that means all the money left to him by his uncle in +Rome, does it not?" +</P> + +<P> +I bowed. I could not trust myself to speak. +</P> + +<P> +"I thought so," she murmured, gleefully, more to herself than to me; +"and I have a right to all his papers and letters." There she paused +abruptly and checked herself. +</P> + +<P> +I understood her. She wanted to get back her own letters to the dead +man, lest her intimacy with him should leak out in some chance way for +which she was unprepared. Cunning devil! I was almost glad she showed +me to what a depth of vulgar vice she had fallen. There was no question +of pity or forbearance in HER case. If all the tortures invented by +savages or stern inquisitors could be heaped upon her at once, such +punishment would be light in comparison with her crimes—crimes for +which, mark you, the law gives you no remedy but divorce. Tired of the +wretched comedy, I looked at my watch. +</P> + +<P> +"It is time for me to take my leave of you," I said, in the stiff, +courtly manner I affected. "Moments fly fast in your enchanting +company! But I have still to walk to Castellamare, there to rejoin my +carriage, and I have many things to attend to before my departure this +evening. On my return from Avellino shall I be welcome?" +</P> + +<P> +"You know it," she returned, nestling her head against my shoulder, +while for mere form's sake I was forced to hold her in a partial +embrace. "I only wish you were not going at all. Dearest, do not stay +long away—I shall be so unhappy till you come back!" +</P> + +<P> +"Absence strengthens love, they say," I observed, with a forced smile. +"May it do so in our case. Farewell, cara mia! Pray for me; I suppose +you DO pray a great deal here?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, yes," she replied, naively; "there is nothing else to do." +</P> + +<P> +I held her hands closely in my grasp. The engagement ring on her +finger, and the diamond signet on my own, flashed in the light like the +crossing of swords. +</P> + +<P> +"Pray then," I said, "storm the gates of heaven with sweet-voiced +pleadings for the repose of poor Ferrari's soul! Remember he loved you, +though YOU never loved him. For YOUR sake he quarreled with me, his +best friend—for YOUR sake he died! Pray for him—who knows," and I +spoke in thrilling tones of earnestness—"who knows but that his +too-hastily departed spirit may not be near us now—hearing our voices, +watching our looks?" +</P> + +<P> +She shivered slightly, and her hands in mine grew cold. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, yes," I continued, more calmly; "you must not forget to pray for +him—he was young and not prepared to die." +</P> + +<P> +My words had some of the desired effect upon her—for once her ready +speech failed—she seemed as though she sought for some reply and found +none. I still held her hands. +</P> + +<P> +"Promise me!" I continued; "and at the same time pray for your dead +husband! He and poor Ferrari were close friends, you know; it will be +pious and kind of you to join their names in one petition addressed to +Him 'from whom no secrets are hid,' and who reads with unerring eyes +the purity of your intentions. Will you do it?" +</P> + +<P> +She smiled, a forced, faint smile. +</P> + +<P> +"I certainly will," she replied, in a low voice; "I promise you." +</P> + +<P> +I released her hands—I was satisfied. If she dared to pray thus I +felt—I KNEW that she would draw down upon her soul the redoubled wrath +of Heaven; for I looked beyond the grave! The mere death of her body +would be but a slight satisfaction to me; it was the utter destruction +of her wicked soul that I sought. She should never repent, I swore; she +should never have the chance of casting off her vileness as a serpent +casts its skin, and, reclothing herself in innocence, presume to ask +admittance into that Eternal Gloryland whither my little child had +gone—never, never! No church should save her, no priest should absolve +her—not while <I>I</I> lived! +</P> + +<P> +She watched me as I fastened my coat and began to draw on my gloves. +</P> + +<P> +"Are you going now?" she asked, somewhat timidly. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, I am going now, cara mia," I said. "Why! what makes you look so +pale?" +</P> + +<P> +For she had suddenly turned very white. +</P> + +<P> +"Let me see your hand again," she demanded, with feverish eagerness, +"the hand on which I placed the ring!" +</P> + +<P> +Smilingly and with readiness I took off the glove I had just put on. +</P> + +<P> +"What odd fancy possesses you now, little one?" I asked, with an air of +playfulness. +</P> + +<P> +She made no answer, but took my hand and examined it closely and +curiously. Then she looked up, her lips twitched nervously, and she +laughed a little hard mirthless laugh. +</P> + +<P> +"Your hand," she murmured, incoherently, "with—that—signet—on it—is +exactly like—like Fabio's!" +</P> + +<P> +And before I had time to say a word she went off into a violent fit of +hysterics—sobs, little cries, and laughter all intermingled in that +wild and reasonless distraction that generally unnerves the strongest +man who is not accustomed to it. I rang the bell to summon assistance; +a lay-sister answered it, and seeing Nina's condition, rushed for a +glass of water and summoned Madame la Vicaire. This latter, entering +with her quiet step and inflexible demeanor, took in the situation at a +glance, dismissed the lay-sister, and possessing herself of the tumbler +of water, sprinkled the forehead of the interesting patient, and forced +some drops between her clinched teeth. Then turning to me she inquired, +with some stateliness of manner, what had caused the attack? +</P> + +<P> +"I really cannot tell you, madame," I said, with an air of affected +concern and vexation. "I certainly told the countess of the unexpected +death of a friend, but she bore the news with exemplary resignation. +The circumstance that appears to have so greatly distressed her is that +she finds, or says she finds, a resemblance between my hand and the +hand of her deceased husband. This seems to me absurd, but there is no +accounting for ladies' caprices." +</P> + +<P> +And I shrugged my shoulders as though I were annoyed and impatient. +</P> + +<P> +Over the pale, serious face of the nun there flitted a smile in which +there was certainly the ghost of sarcasm. +</P> + +<P> +"All sensitiveness and tenderness of heart, you see!" she said, in her +chill, passionless tones, which, icy as they were, somehow conveyed to +my ear another meaning than that implied by the words she uttered. "We +cannot perhaps understand the extreme delicacy of her feelings, and we +fail to do justice to them." +</P> + +<P> +Here Nina opened her eyes, and looked at us with piteous plaintiveness, +while her bosom heaved with those long, deep sighs which are the +finishing chords of the Sonata Hysteria. +</P> + +<P> +"You are better, I trust?" continued the nun, without any sympathy in +her monotonous accents, and addressing her with some reserve. "You have +greatly alarmed the Count Oliva." +</P> + +<P> +"I am sorry—" began Nina, feebly. +</P> + +<P> +I hastened to her side. +</P> + +<P> +"Pray do not speak of it!" I urged, forcing something like a lover's +ardor into my voice. "I regret beyond measure that it is my misfortune +to have hands like those of your late husband! I assure you I am quite +miserable about it. Can you forgive me?" +</P> + +<P> +She was recovering quickly, and she was evidently conscious that she +had behaved somewhat foolishly. She smiled a weak pale smile; but she +looked very scared, worn and ill. She rose from her chair slowly and +languidly. +</P> + +<P> +"I think I will go to my room," she said, not regarding Mere +Marguerite, who had withdrawn to a little distance, and who stood +rigidly erect, immovably featured, with her silver crucifix glittering +coldly on her still breast. +</P> + +<P> +"Good-bye, Cesare! Please forget my stupidity, and write to me from +Avellino." +</P> + +<P> +I took her outstretched hand, and bowing over it, touched it gently +with my lips. She turned toward the door, when suddenly a mischievous +idea seemed to enter her mind. She looked at Madame la Vicaire and then +came back to me. +</P> + +<P> +"Addio, amor mio!" she said, with a sort of rapturous emphasis, and +throwing her arms round my neck she kissed me almost passionately. +</P> + +<P> +Then she glanced maliciously at the nun, who had lowered her eyes till +they appeared fast shut, and breaking into a low peal of indolently +amused laughter, waved her hand to me, and left the room. +</P> + +<P> +I was somewhat confused. The suddenness and warmth of her caress had +been, I knew, a mere monkeyish trick, designed to vex the religious +scruples of Mere Marguerite. I knew not what to say to the stately +woman who remained confronting me with downcast eyes and lips that +moved dumbly as though in prayer. As the door closed after my wife's +retreating figure, the nun looked up; there was a slight flush on her +pallid cheeks, and to my astonishment, tears glittered on her dark +lashes. +</P> + +<P> +"Madame," I began, earnestly, "I assure you—" +</P> + +<P> +"Say nothing, signor," she interrupted me with a slight deprecatory +gesture; "it is quite unnecessary. To mock a religieuse is a common +amusement with young girls and women of the world. I am accustomed to +it, though I feel its cruelty more than I ought to do. Ladies like the +Countess Romani think that we—we, the sepulchers of +womanhood—sepulchers that we have emptied and cleansed to the best of +our ability, so that they may more fittingly hold the body of the +crucified Christ; these grandes dames, I say, fancy that WE are +ignorant of all they know—that we cannot understand love, tenderness +or passion. They never reflect—how should they?—that we also have had +our histories—histories, perhaps, that would make angels weep for +pity! I, even I—" and she struck her breast fiercely, then suddenly +recollecting herself, she continued coldly: "The rule of our convent, +signer, permits no visitor to remain longer than one hour—that hour +has expired. I will summon a sister to show you the way out." +</P> + +<P> +"Wait one instant, madame," I said, feeling that to enact my part +thoroughly I ought to attempt to make some defense of Nina's conduct; +"permit me to say a word! My fiancee is very young and thoughtless. I +really cannot think that her very innocent parting caress to me had +anything in it that was meant to purposely annoy you." +</P> + +<P> +The nun glanced at me—her eyes flashed disdainfully. +</P> + +<P> +"You think it was all affection for you, no doubt, signor? very +natural supposition, and—I should be sorry to undeceive you." +</P> + +<P> +She paused a moment and then resumed: +</P> + +<P> +"You seem an earnest man—may be you are destined to be the means of +saving Nina; I could say much—yet it is wise to be silent. If you love +her do not flatter her; her overweening vanity is her ruin. A firm, +wise, ruling master-hand may perhaps—who knows?" She hesitated and +sighed, then added, gently, "Farewell, signor! Benedicite!" and making +the sign of the cross as I respectfully bent my head to receive her +blessing, she passed noiselessly from the room. +</P> + +<P> +One moment later, and a lame and aged lay-sister came to escort me to +the gate. As I passed down the stone corridor a side door opened a very +little way, and two fair young faces peeped out at me. For an instant I +saw four laughing bright eyes; I heard a smothered voice say, "Oh! +c'est un vieux papa!" and then my guide, who though lame was not blind, +perceived the opened door and shut it with an angry bang, which, +however, did not drown the ringing merriment that echoed from within. +On reaching the outer gates I turned to my venerable companion, and +laying four twenty-franc pieces in her shriveled palm, I said: +</P> + +<P> +"Take these to the reverend mother for me, and ask that mass may be +said in the chapel to-morrow for the repose of the soul of him whose +name is written here." +</P> + +<P> +And I gave her Guido Ferrari's visiting-card, adding in lower and more +solemn tones: +</P> + +<P> +"He met with a sudden and unprepared death. Of your charity, pray also +for the man who killed him!" +</P> + +<P> +The old woman looked startled, and crossed herself devoutly; but she +promised that my wishes should be fulfilled, and I bade her farewell +and passed out, the convent gates closing with a dull clang behind me. +I walked on a few yards, and then paused, looking back. What a peaceful +home it seemed; how calm and sure a retreat, with the white Noisette +roses crowning its ancient gray walls! Yet what embodied curses were +pent up in there in the shape of girls growing to be women; women for +whom all the care, stern training and anxious solicitude of the nuns +would be unavailing; women who would come forth from even that abode of +sanctity with vile natures and animal impulses, and who would +hereafter, while leading a life of vice and hypocrisy, hold up this +very strictness of their early education as proof of their +unimpeachable innocence and virtue! To such, what lesson is learned by +the daily example of the nuns who mortify their flesh, fast, pray and +weep? No lesson at all—nothing save mockery and contempt. To a girl in +the heyday of youth and beauty the life of a religieuse seems +ridiculous. "The poor nuns!" she says, with a laugh; "they are so +ignorant. Their time is over—mine has not yet begun." Few, very few, +among the thousands of young women who leave the scene of their quiet +schooldays for the social whirligig of the world, ever learn to take +life in earnest, love in earnest, sorrow in earnest. To most of them +life is a large dressmaking and millinery establishment; love a +question of money and diamonds; sorrow a solemn calculation as to how +much or how little mourning is considered becoming or fashionable. And +for creatures such as these we men work—work till our hairs are gray +and our backs bent with toil—work till all the joy and zest of living +has gone from us, and our reward is—what? Happiness?—seldom. +Infidelity?—often. Ridicule? Truly we ought to be glad if we are only +ridiculed and thrust back to occupy the second place in our own houses; +our lady-wives call that "kind treatment." Is there a married woman +living who does not now and then throw a small stone of insolent satire +at her husband when his back is turned? What, madame? You, who read +these words—you say with indignation: "Certainly there is, and <I>I</I> am +that woman!" Ah, truly? I salute you profoundly!—you are, no doubt, +the one exception! +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap28"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXVIII. +</H3> + +<P> +Avellino is one of those dreamy, quiet and picturesque towns which have +not as yet been desecrated by the Vandal tourist. Persons holding +"through tickets" from Messrs. Cook or Gaze do not stop there—there +are no "sights" save the old sanctuary called Monte Virgine standing +aloft on its rugged hill, with all the memories of its ancient days +clinging to it like a wizard's cloak, and wrapping it in a sort of +mysterious meditative silence. It can look back through a vista of +eventful years to the eleventh century, when it was erected, so the +people say, on the ruins of a temple of Cybele. But what do the sheep +and geese that are whipped abroad in herds by the drovers Cook and Gaze +know of Monte Virgine or Cybele? Nothing—and they care less; and quiet +Avellino escapes from their depredations, thankful that it is not +marked on the business map of the drovers' "RUNS." Shut in by the lofty +Apennines, built on the slope of the hill that winds gently down into a +green and fruitful valley through which the river Sabato rushes and +gleams white against cleft rocks that look like war-worn and deserted +castles, a drowsy peace encircles it, and a sort of stateliness, which, +compared with the riotous fun and folly of Naples only thirty miles +away, is as though the statue of a nude Egeria were placed in rivalry +with the painted waxen image of a half-dressed ballet-dancer. Few +lovelier sights are to be seen in nature than a sunset from one of the +smaller hills round Avellino—when the peaks of the Apennines seem to +catch fire from the flaming clouds, and below them, the valleys are +full of those tender purple and gray shadows that one sees on the +canvases of Salvator Rosa, while the town itself looks like a bronzed +carving on an old shield, outlined clearly against the dazzling luster +of the sky. To this retired spot I came—glad to rest for a time from +my work of vengeance—glad to lay down my burden of bitterness for a +brief space, and become, as it were, human again, in the sight of the +near mountains. For within their close proximity, things common, things +mean seem to slip from the soul—a sort of largeness pervades the +thoughts, the cramping prosiness of daily life has no room to assert +its sway—a grand hush falls on the stormy waters of passion, and like +a chidden babe the strong man stands, dwarfed to an infinite littleness +in his own sight, before those majestic monarchs of the landscape whose +large brows are crowned with the blue circlet of heaven. +</P> + +<P> +I took up my abode in a quiet, almost humble lodging, living simply, +and attended only by Vincenzo. I was tired of the ostentation I had +been forced to practice in Naples in order to attain my ends—and it +was a relief to me to be for a time as though I were a poor man. The +house in which I found rooms that suited me was a ramblingly built, +picturesque little place, situated on the outskirts of the town, and +the woman who owned it, was, in her way, a character. She was a Roman, +she told me, with pride flashing in her black eyes—I could guess that +at once by her strongly marked features, her magnificently molded +figure, and her free, firm tread—that step which is swift without +being hasty, which is the manner born of Rome. She told me her history +in a few words, with such eloquent gestures that she seemed to live +through it again as she spoke: her husband had been a worker in a +marble quarry—one of his fellows had let a huge piece of the rock fall +on him, and he was crushed to death. +</P> + +<P> +"And well do I know," she said, "that he killed my Toni purposely, for +he would have loved me had he dared. But I am a common woman, see +you—and it seems to me one cannot lie. And when my love's poor body +was scarce covered in the earth, that miserable one—the murderer—came +to me—he offered marriage. I accused him of his crime—he denied +it—he said the rock slipped from his hands, he knew not how. I struck +him on the mouth, and bade him leave my sight and take my curse with +him! He is dead now—and surely if the saints have heard me, his soul +is not in heaven!" +</P> + +<P> +Thus she spoke with flashing eyes and purposeful energy, while with her +strong brown arms she threw open the wide casement of the sitting-room +I had taken, and bade me view her orchard. It was a fresh green strip +of verdure and foliage—about eight acres of good land, planted +entirely with apple-trees. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, truly!" she said, showing her white teeth in a pleased smile as I +made the admiring remark she expected. "Avellino has long had a name +for its apples—but, thanks to the Holy Mother, I think in the season +there is no fruit in all the neighborhood finer than mine. The produce +of it brings me almost enough to live upon—that and the house, when I +can find signori willing to dwell with me. But few strangers come +hither; sometimes an artist, sometimes a poet—such as these are soon +tired of gayety, and are glad to rest. To common persons I would not +open my door—not for pride, ah, no! but when one has a girl, one +cannot be too careful." +</P> + +<P> +"You have a daughter, then?" +</P> + +<P> +Her fierce eyes softened. +</P> + +<P> +"One—my Lilla. I call her my blessing, and too good for me. Often I +fancy that it is because she tends them that the trees bear so well, +and the apples are so sound and sweet! And when she drives the load of +fruit to market, and sits so smilingly behind the team, it seems to me +that her very face brings luck to the sale." +</P> + +<P> +I smiled at the mother's enthusiasm, and sighed. I had no fair faiths +left—I could not even believe in Lilla. My landlady, Signora Monti as +she was called, saw that I looked fatigued, and left me to myself—and +during my stay I saw very little of her, Vincenzo constituting himself +my majordomo, or rather becoming for my sake a sort of amiable slave, +always looking to the smallest details of my comfort, and studying my +wishes with an anxious solicitude that touched while it gratified me. I +had been fully three days in my retreat before he ventured to enter +upon any conversation with me, for he had observed that I always sought +to be alone, that I took long, solitary rambles through the woods and, +across the hills—and, not daring to break through my taciturnity, he +had contented himself by merely attending to my material comforts in +silence. One afternoon, however, after clearing away the remains of my +light luncheon, he lingered in the room. +</P> + +<P> +"The eccellenza has not yet seen Lilla Monti?" he asked, hesitatingly. +</P> + +<P> +I looked at him in some surprise. There was a blush on his olive-tinted +cheeks and an unusual sparkle in his eyes. For the first time I +realized that this valet of mine was a handsome young fellow. +</P> + +<P> +"Seen Lilla Monti!" I repeated, half absently; "oh, you mean the child +of the landlady? No, I have not seen her. Why do you ask?" +</P> + +<P> +Vincenzo smiled. "Pardon, eccellenza! but she is beautiful, and there +is a saying in my province: Be the heart heavy as stone, the sight of a +fair face will lighten it!" +</P> + +<P> +I gave an impatient gesture. "All folly, Vincenzo! Beauty is the curse +of the world. Read history, and you shall find the greatest conquerors +and sages ruined and disgraced by its snares." +</P> + +<P> +He nodded gravely. He probably thought of the announcement I had made +at the banquet of my own approaching marriage, and strove to reconcile +it with the apparent inconsistency of my present observation. But he +was too discreet to utter his mind aloud—he merely said: +</P> + +<P> +"No doubt you are right, eccellenza. Still one is glad to see the roses +bloom, and the stars shine, and the foam-bells sparkle on the waves—so +one is glad to see Lilla Monti." +</P> + +<P> +I turned round in my chair to observe him more closely—the flush +deepened on his cheek as I regarded him. I laughed with a bitter +sadness. +</P> + +<P> +"In love, amico, art thou? So soon!—three days—and thou hast fallen a +prey to the smile of Lilla! I am sorry for thee!" +</P> + +<P> +He interrupted me eagerly. +</P> + +<P> +"The eccellenza is in error! I would not dare—she is too innocent—she +knows nothing! She is like a little bird in the nest, so soft and +tender—a word of love would frighten her; I should be a coward to +utter it." +</P> + +<P> +Well, well! I thought, what was the use of sneering at the poor fellow! +Why, because my own love had turned to ashes in my grasp, should I mock +at those who fancied they had found the golden fruit of the Hesperides? +Vincenzo, once a soldier, now half courier, half valet, was something +of a poet at heart; he had the grave meditative turn of mind common to +Tuscans, together with that amorous fire that ever burns under their +lightly worn mask of seeming reserve. +</P> + +<P> +I roused myself to appear interested. +</P> + +<P> +"I see, Vincenzo," I said, with a kindly air of banter, "that the sight +of Lilla Monti more than compensates you for that portion of the +Neapolitan carnival which you lose by being here. But why you should +wish me to behold this paragon of maidens I know not, unless you would +have me regret my own lost youth." +</P> + +<P> +A curious and perplexed expression flitted over his face, At last he +said firmly, as though his mind were made up: +</P> + +<P> +"The eccellenza must pardon me for seeing what perhaps I ought not to +have seen, but—" +</P> + +<P> +"But what?" I asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Eccellenza, you have not lost your youth." +</P> + +<P> +I turned my head toward him again—he was looking at me in some +alarm—he feared some outburst of anger. +</P> + +<P> +"Well!" I said, calmly. "That is your idea, is it? and why?" +</P> + +<P> +"Eccellenza, I saw you without your spectacles that day when you fought +with the unfortunate Signor Ferrari. I watched you when you fired. Your +eyes are beautiful and terrible—the eyes of a young man, though your +hair is white." +</P> + +<P> +Quietly I took off my glasses and laid them on the table beside me. +</P> + +<P> +"As you have seen me once without them, you can see me again," I +observed, gently. "I wear them for a special purpose. Here in Avellino +the purpose does not hold. Thus far I confide in you. But beware how +you betray my confidence." +</P> + +<P> +"Eccellenza!" cried Vincenzo, in truly pained accents, and with a +grieved look. +</P> + +<P> +I rose and laid my hand on his arm. +</P> + +<P> +"There! I was wrong—forgive me. You are honest; you have served your +country well enough to know the value of fidelity and duty. But when +you say I have not lost my youth, you are wrong, Vincenzo! I HAVE lost +it—it has been killed within me by a great sorrow. The strength, the +suppleness of limb, the brightness of eye these are mere outward +things: but in the heart and soul are the chill and drear bitterness of +deserted age. Nay, do not smile; I am in truth very old—so old that I +tire of my length of days; yet again, not too old to appreciate your +affection, amico, and"—here I forced a faint smile—"when I see the +maiden Lilla, I will tell you frankly what I think of her." +</P> + +<P> +Vincenzo stooped his head, caught my hand within his own, and kissed +it, then left the room abruptly, to hide the tears that my words had +brought to his eyes. He was sorry for me, I could see, and I judged him +rightly when I thought that the very mystery surrounding me increased +his attachment. On the whole, I was glad he had seen me undisguised, as +it was a relief to me to be without my smoked glasses for a time, and +during all the rest of my stay at Avellino I never wore them once. +</P> + +<P> +One day I saw Lilla. I had strolled up to a quaint church situated on a +rugged hill and surrounded by fine old chestnut-trees, where there was +a picture of the Scourging of Christ, said to have been the work of Fra +Angelico. The little sanctuary was quite deserted when I entered it, +and I paused on the threshold, touched by the simplicity of the place +and soothed by the intense silence. I walked on my tiptoe up to the +corner where hung the picture I had come to see, and as I did so a girl +passed me with a light step, carrying a basket of fragrant winter +narcissi and maiden-hair fern. Something in her graceful, noiseless +movements caused me to look after her; but she had turned her back to +me and was kneeling at the shrine consecrated to the Virgin, having +placed her flowers on the lowest step of the altar. She was dressed in +peasant costume—a simple, short blue skirt and scarlet bodice, +relieved by the white kerchief that was knotted about her shoulders; +and round her small well-shaped head the rich chestnut hair was coiled +in thick shining braids. +</P> + +<P> +I felt that I must see her face, and for that reason went back to the +church door and waited till she should pass out. Very soon she came +toward me, with the same light timid step that I had often before +noticed, and her fair young features were turned fully upon me. What +was there in those clear candid eyes that made me involuntarily bow my +head in a reverential salutation as she passed? I know not. It was not +beauty—for though the child was lovely I had seen lovelier; it was +something inexplicable and rare—something of a maidenly composure and +sweet dignity that I had never beheld on any woman's face before. Her +cheeks flushed softly as she modestly returned my salute, and when she +was once outside the church door she paused, her small white fingers +still clasping the carven brown beads of her rosary. She hesitated a +moment, and then spoke shyly yet brightly: +</P> + +<P> +"If the eccellenza will walk yet a little further up the hill he will +see a finer view of the mountains." +</P> + +<P> +Something familiar in her look—a sort of reflection of her mother's +likeness—made me sure of her identity. I smiled. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah! you are Lilla Monti?" +</P> + +<P> +She blushed again. +</P> + +<P> +"Si, signor. I am Lilla." +</P> + +<P> +I let my eyes dwell on her searchingly and almost sadly. Vincenzo was +right: the girl was beautiful, not with the forced hot-house beauty of +the social world and its artificial constraint, but with the loveliness +and fresh radiance which nature gives to those of her cherished ones +who dwell with her in peace. I had seen many exquisite women—women of +Juno-like form and face—women whose eyes were basilisks to draw and +compel the souls of men—but I had never seen any so spiritually fair +as this little peasant maiden, who stood fearlessly yet modestly +regarding me with the innocent inquiry of a child who suddenly sees +something new, to which it is unaccustomed. She was a little fluttered +by my earnest gaze, and with a pretty courtesy turned to descend the +hill. I said gently: +</P> + +<P> +"You are going home, fauciulla mia?" +</P> + +<P> +The kind protecting tone in which I spoke reassured her. She answered +readily: +</P> + +<P> +"Si signor. My mother waits for me to help her with the eccellenza's +dinner." +</P> + +<P> +I advanced and took the little hand that held the rosary. +</P> + +<P> +"What!" I exclaimed, playfully, "do you still work hard, little Lilla, +even when the apple season is over?" +</P> + +<P> +She laughed musically. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh! I love work. It is good for the temper. People are so cross when +their hands are idle. And many are ill for the same reason. Yes, +truly!" and she nodded her head with grave importance, "it is often so. +Old Pietro, the cobbler, took to his bed when he had no shoes to +mend—yes; he sent for the priest and said he would die, not for want +of money—oh no! he has plenty, he is quite rich—but because he had +nothing to do. So my mother and I found some shoes with holes, and took +them to him; he sat up in bed to mend them, and now he is as well as +ever! And we are careful to give him something always." +</P> + +<P> +She laughed again, and again looked grave. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, yes!" she said, with a wise shake of her little glossy head, "one +cannot live without work. My mother says that good women are never +tired, it is only wicked persons who are lazy. And that reminds me I +must make haste to return and prepare the eccellenza's coffee." +</P> + +<P> +"Do you make my coffee, little one?" I asked, "and does not Vincenzo +help you?" +</P> + +<P> +The faintest suspicion of a blush tinged her pretty cheeks. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, he is very good, Vincenzo," she said, demurely, with downcast +eyes; "he is what we call buon' amico, yes, indeed! But he is often +glad when I make coffee for him also; he likes it so much! He says I do +it so well! But perhaps the eccellenza will prefer Vincenzo?" +</P> + +<P> +I laughed. She was so naive, so absorbed in her little duties—such a +child altogether. +</P> + +<P> +"Nay, Lilla, I am proud to think you make anything for me. I shall +enjoy it more now that I know what kind hands have been at work. But +you must not spoil Vincenzo—you will turn his head if you make his +coffee too often." +</P> + +<P> +She looked surprised. She did not understand. Evidently to her mind +Vincenzo was nothing but a good-natured young fellow, whose palate +could be pleased by her culinary skill; she treated him, I dare say, +exactly as she would have treated one of her own sex. She seemed to +think over my words, as one who considers a conundrum, then she +apparently gave it up as hopeless, and shook her head lightly as though +dismissing the subject. +</P> + +<P> +"Will the eccellenza visit the Punto d'Angelo?" she said brightly, as +she turned to go. +</P> + +<P> +I had never heard of this place, and asked her to what she alluded. +</P> + +<P> +"It is not far from here," she explained, "it is the view I spoke of +before. Just a little further up the hill you will see a flat gray +rock, covered with blue gentians. No one knows how they grow—they are +always there, blooming in summer and winter. But it said that one of +God's own great angels comes once in every month at midnight to bless +the Monte Vergine, and that he stands on that rock. And of course +wherever the angels tread there are flowers, and no storm can destroy +them—not even an avalanche. That is why the people call it the Punto +d'Angelo. It will please you to see it, eccellenza—it is but a walk of +a little ten minutes." +</P> + +<P> +And with a smile, and a courtesy as pretty and as light as a flower +might make to the wind, she left me, half running, half dancing down +the hill, and singing aloud for sheer happiness and innocence of heart. +Her pure lark-like notes floated upward toward me where I stood, +wistfully watching her as she disappeared. The warm afternoon sunshine +caught lovingly at her chestnut hair, turning it to a golden bronze, +and touched up the whiteness of her throat and arms, and brightened the +scarlet of her bodice, as she descended the grassy slope, and was at +last lost to my view amid the foliage of the surrounding trees. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap29"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXIX. +</H3> + +<P> +I sighed heavily as I resumed my walk. I realized all that I had lost. +This lovely child with her simple fresh nature, why had I not met such +a one and wedded HER instead of the vile creature who had been my +soul's undoing? The answer came swiftly. Even if I HAD seen her when I +was free, I doubt if I should have known her value. We men of the world +who have social positions to support, we see little or nothing in the +peasant type of womanhood; we must marry "ladies," so-called—educated +girls who are as well versed in the world's ways as ourselves, if not +more so. And so we get the Cleopatras, the Du Barrys, the Pompadours, +while unspoiled maidens such as Lilla too often become the household +drudges of common mechanics or day-laborers, living and dying in the +one routine of hard work, and often knowing and caring for nothing +better than the mountain-hut, the farm-kitchen, or the covered stall in +the market-place. Surely it is an ill-balanced world—so many mistakes +are made; Fate plays us so many apparently unnecessary tricks, and we +are all of us such blind madmen, knowing not whither we are going from +one day to another! I am told that it is no longer fashionable to +believe in a devil—but I care nothing for fashion! A devil there is I +am sure, who for some inscrutable reason has a share in the ruling of +this planet—a devil who delights in mocking us from the cradle to the +grave. And perhaps we are never so hopelessly, utterly fooled as in our +marriages! +</P> + +<P> +Occupied in various thoughts, I scarcely saw where I wandered, till a +flashing glimmer of blue blossoms recalled me to the object of my walk. +I had reached the Punto d'Angelo. It was, as Lilla had said, a flat +rock bare in every place save at the summit, where it was thickly +covered with the lovely gentians, flowers that are rare in this part of +Italy. Here then the fabled angel paused in his flight to bless the +venerable sanctuary of Monte Vergine. I stopped and looked around me. +The view was indeed superb—from the leafy bosom of the valley, the +green hills like smooth, undulating billows rolled upward, till their +emerald verdure was lost in the dense purple shadows and tall peaks of +the Apennines; the town of Avellino lay at my feet, small yet clearly +defined as a miniature painting on porcelain; and a little further +beyond and above me rose the gray tower of the Monte Vergine itself, +the one sad and solitary-looking object in all the luxuriant riante +landscape. +</P> + +<P> +I sat down to rest, not as an intruder on the angel's +flower-embroidered throne, but on a grassy knoll close by. And then I +bethought me of a packet I had received from Naples that morning—a +packet that I desired yet hesitated to open. It had been sent by the +Marquis D'Avencourt, accompanied by a courteous letter, which informed +me that Ferrari's body had been privately buried with all the last +religious rites in the cemetery, "close to the funeral vault of the +Romani family," wrote D'Avencourt, "as, from all we can hear or +discover, such seems to have been his own desire. He was, it appears, a +sort of adopted brother of the lately deceased count, and on being +informed of this circumstance, we buried him in accordance with the +sentiments he would no doubt have expressed had he considered the +possible nearness of his own end at the time of the combat." +</P> + +<P> +With regard to the packet inclosed, D'Avencourt continued—"The +accompanying letters were found in Ferrari's breast-pocket, and on +opening the first one, in the expectation of finding some clew as to +his last wishes, we came to the conclusion that you, as the future +husband of the lady whose signature and handwriting you will here +recognize, should be made aware of the contents, not only for your own +sake, but in justice to the deceased. If all the letters are of the +same tone as the one I unknowingly opened, I have no doubt Ferrari +considered himself a sufficiently injured man. But of that you will +judge for yourself, though, if I might venture so far in the way of +friendship, I should recommend you to give careful consideration to the +inclosed correspondence before tying the matrimonial knot to which you +alluded the other evening. It is not wise to walk on the edge of a +precipice with one's eyes shut! Captain Ciabatti was the first to +inform me of what I now know for a fact—namely, that Ferrari left a +will in which everything he possessed is made over unconditionally to +the Countess Romani. You will of course draw your own conclusions, and +pardon me if I am guilty of trop de zele in your service. I have now +only to tell you that all the unpleasantness of this affair is passing +over very smoothly and without scandal—I have taken care of that. You +need not prolong your absence further than you feel inclined, and I, +for one, shall be charmed to welcome you back to Naples. With every +sentiment of the highest consideration and regard, I am, my dear conte, +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> + "Your very true friend and servitor,<BR> + "PHILIPPE D'AVENCOURT."<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +I folded this letter carefully and put it aside. The little package he +had sent me lay in my hand—a bundle of neatly folded letters tied +together with a narrow ribbon, and strongly perfumed with the faint +sickly perfume I knew and abhorred. I turned them over and over; the +edges of the note-paper were stained with blood—Guido's blood—as +though in its last sluggish flowing it had endeavored to obliterate all +traces of the daintily penned lines that now awaited my perusal. Slowly +I untied the ribbon. With methodical deliberation I read one letter +after the other. They were all from Nina—all written to Guido while he +was in Rome, some of them bearing the dates of the very days when she +had feigned to love ME—me, her newly accepted husband. One very +amorous epistle had been written on the self-same evening she had +plighted her troth to me! Letters burning and tender, full of the most +passionate protestations of fidelity, overflowing with the sweetest +terms of endearment; with such a ring of truth and love throughout them +that surely it was no wonder that Guido's suspicions were all +unawakened, and that he had reason to believe himself safe in his +fool's paradise. One passage in this poetical and romantic +correspondence fixed my attention: it ran thus: +</P> + +<P> +"Why do you write so much of marriage to me, Guido mio? it seems to my +mind that all the joy of loving will be taken from us when once the +hard world knows of our passion. If you become my husband you will +assuredly cease to be my lover, and that would break my heart. Ah, my +best beloved! I desire you to be my lover always, as you were when +Fabio lived—why bring commonplace matrimony into the heaven of such a +passion as ours?" +</P> + +<P> +I studied these words attentively. Of course I understood their drift. +She had tried to feel her way with the dead man. She had wanted to +marry me, and yet retain Guido for her lonely hours, as "her lover +always!" Such a pretty, ingenious plan it was! No thief, no murderer +ever laid more cunning schemes than she, but the law looks after +thieves and murderers. For such a woman as this, law says, "Divorce +her—that is your best remedy." Divorce her! Let the criminal go +scot-free! Others may do it that choose—I have different ideas of +justice! +</P> + +<P> +Tying up the packet of letters again, with their sickening perfume and +their blood-stained edges, I drew out the last graciously worded +missive I had received from Nina. Of course I heard from her every +day—she was a most faithful correspondent! The same affectionate +expressions characterized her letters to me as those that had deluded +her dead lover—with this difference, that whereas she inveighed much +against the prosiness of marriage to Guido, to me she drew the much +touching pictures of her desolate condition: how lonely she had felt +since her "dear husband's" death, how rejoiced she was to think that +she was soon again to be a happy wife—the wife of one so noble, so +true, so devoted as I was! She had left the convent and was now at +home—when should she have the happiness of welcoming me, her best +beloved Cesare, back to Naples? She certainly deserved some credit for +artistic lying; I could not understand how she managed it so well. +Almost I admired her skill, as one sometimes admires a cool-headed +burglar, who has more skill, cunning, and pluck than his comrades. I +thought with triumph that though the wording of Ferrari's will enabled +her to secure all other letters she might have written to him, this one +little packet of documentary evidence was more than sufficient for MY +purposes. And I resolved to retain it in my own keeping till the time +came for me to use it against her. +</P> + +<P> +And how about D'Avencourt's friendly advice concerning the matrimonial +knot? "A man should not walk on the edge of a precipice with his eyes +shut." Very true. But if his eyes are open, and he has his enemy by the +throat, the edge of a precipice is a convenient position for hurling +that enemy down to death in a quiet way, that the world need know +nothing of! So for the present I preferred the precipice to walking on +level ground. +</P> + +<P> +I rose from my seat near the Punto d'Angelo. It was growing late in the +afternoon. From the little church below me soft bells rang out the +Angelus, and with them chimed in a solemn and harsher sound from the +turret of the Monte Vergine. I lifted my hat with the customary +reverence, and stood listening, with my feet deep in the grass and +scented thyme, and more than once glanced up at the height whereon the +venerable sanctuary held its post, like some lonely old god of memory +brooding over vanished years. There, according to tradition, was once +celebrated the worship of the many-breasted Cybele; down that very +slope of grass dotted with violets had rushed the howling, naked +priests beating their discordant drums and shrinking their laments for +the loss of Atys, the beautiful youth, their goddess's paramour. +Infidelity again!—even in this ancient legend, what did Cybele care +for old Saturn, whose wife she was? Nothing, less than nothing!—and +her adorers worshiped not her chastity, but her faithlessness; it is +the way of the world to this day! +</P> + +<P> +The bells ceased ringing; I descended the hill and returned homeward +through a shady valley, full of the odor of pines and bog-myrtle. On +reaching the gate of the Signora Monti's humble yet picturesque +dwelling, I heard the sound of laughter and clapping of hands, and +looking in the direction of the orchard, I saw Vincenzo hard at work, +his shirt-sleeves rolled up to the shoulder, splitting some goodly logs +of wood, while Lilla stood beside him, merrily applauding and +encouraging his efforts. He seemed quite in his element, and wielded +his ax with a regularity and vigor I should scarcely have expected from +a man whom I was accustomed to see performing the somewhat effeminate +duties of a valet-de-chambre. I watched him and the fair girl beside +him for a few moments, myself unperceived. +</P> + +<P> +If this little budding romance were left alone it would ripen into a +flower, and Vincenzo would be a happier man than his master. He was a +true Tuscan, from the very way he handled his wood-ax; I could see that +he loved the life of the hills and fields—the life of a simple farmer +and fruit-grower, full of innocent enjoyments, as sweet as the ripe +apples in his orchard. I could foresee his future with Lilla beside +him. He would have days of unwearying contentment, rendered beautiful +by the free fresh air and the fragrance of flowers—his evenings would +slip softly by to the tinkle of the mandolin, and the sound of his wife +and children's singing. +</P> + +<P> +What fairer fate could a man desire?—what life more certain to keep +health in the body and peace in the mind? Could I not help him to his +happiness, I wondered? I, who had grown stern with long brooding upon +my vengeance—could I not aid in bringing joy to others! If I could, my +mind would be somewhat lightened of its burden—a burden grown heavier +since Guide's death, for from his blood had sprung forth a new group of +Furies, that lashed me on to my task with scorpion whips of redoubled +wrath and passionate ferocity. Yet if I could do one good action +now—would it not be as a star shining in the midst of my soul's storm +and darkness? Just then Lilla laughed—how sweetly!—the laugh of a +very young child. What amused her now? I looked, and saw that she had +taken the ax from Vincenzo, and lifting it in her little hands, was +endeavoring bravely to imitate his strong and telling stroke; he +meanwhile stood aside with an air of smiling superiority, mingled with +a good deal of admiration for the slight active figure arrayed in the +blue kirtle and scarlet bodice, on which the warm rays of the late sun +fell with so much amorous tenderness. Poor little Lilla! A penknife +would have made as much impression as her valorous blows produced on +the inflexible, gnarled, knotty old stump she essayed to split in +twain. Flushed and breathless with her efforts, she looked prettier +than ever, and at last, baffled, she resigned her ax to Vincenzo, +laughing gayly at her incapacity for wood-cutting, and daintily shaking +her apron free from the chips and dust, till a call from her mother +caused her to run swiftly into the house, leaving Vincenzo working away +as arduously as ever. I went up to him; he saw me approaching, and +paused in his labors with an air of slight embarrassment. +</P> + +<P> +"You like this sort of work, amico?" I said, gently. +</P> + +<P> +"An old habit, eccellenza—nothing more. It reminds me of the days of +my youth, when I worked for my mother. Ah! a pleasant place it was—the +old home just above Fiesole." His eyes grew pensive and sad. "It is all +gone now—finished. That was before I became a soldier. But one thinks +of it sometimes." +</P> + +<P> +"I understand. And no doubt you would be glad to return to the life of +your boyhood?" +</P> + +<P> +He looked a little startled. +</P> + +<P> +"Not to leave YOU, eccellenza!" +</P> + +<P> +I smiled rather sadly. "Not to leave ME? Not if you wedded Lilla Monti?" +</P> + +<P> +His olive cheek flushed, but he shook his head. +</P> + +<P> +"Impossible! She would not listen to me. She is a child." +</P> + +<P> +"She will soon be a woman, believe me! A little more of your company +will make her so. But there is plenty of time. She is beautiful, as you +said: and something better than that, she is innocent—think of that, +Vincenzo! Do you know how rare a thing innocence is—in a woman? +Respect it as you respect God; let her young life be sacred to you." +</P> + +<P> +He glanced upward reverently. +</P> + +<P> +"Eccellenza, I would as soon tear the Madonna from her altars as vex or +frighten Lilla!" +</P> + +<P> +I smiled and said no more, but turned into the house. From that moment +I resolved to let this little love-idye have a fair chance of success. +Therefore I remained at Avellino much longer than I had at first +intended, not for my own sake, but for Vincenzo's. He served me +faithfully; he should have his reward. I took a pleasure in noticing +that my efforts to promote his cause were not altogether wasted. I +spoke with Lilla often on indifferent matters that interested her, and +watched her constantly when she was all unaware of my observant gaze. +With me she was as frank and fearless as a tame robin; but after some +days I found that she grew shy of mentioning the name of Vincenzo, that +she blushed when he approached her, that she was timid of asking him to +do anything for her; and from all these little signs I knew her mind, +as one knows by the rosy streaks in the sky that the sunrise is near. +</P> + +<P> +One afternoon I called the Signora Monti to my room. She came, +surprised, and a little anxious. Was anything wrong with the service? I +reassured her housewifely scruples, and came to the point at once. +</P> + +<P> +"I would speak to you of your child, the little Lilla," I said, kindly. +"Have you ever thought that she may marry?" +</P> + +<P> +Her dark bold eyes filled with tears and her lips quivered. +</P> + +<P> +"Truly I have," she replied with a wistful sadness; "but I have prayed, +perhaps foolishly, that she would not leave me yet. I love her so well; +she is always a babe to me, so small and sweet! I put the thought of +her marriage from me as a sorrowful thing." +</P> + +<P> +"I understand your feeling," I said. "Still, suppose your daughter +wedded a man who would be to you as a son, and who would not part her +from you?—for instance, let us say Vincenzo?" +</P> + +<P> +Signora Monti smiled through her tears. +</P> + +<P> +"Vincenzo! He is a good lad, a very good lad, and I love him; but he +does not think of Lilla—he is devoted to the eccellenza." +</P> + +<P> +"I am aware of his devotion," I answered. "Still I believe you will +find out soon that he loves your Lilla. At present he says nothing—he +fears to offend you and alarm her; but his eyes speak—so do hers. You +are a good woman, a good mother; watch them both, you will soon tell +whether love is between them or no. And see," here I handed her a +sealed envelope, "in this you will find notes to the amount of four +thousand francs." She uttered a little cry of amazement. "It is Lilla's +dowry, whoever she marries, though I think she will marry Vincenzo. +Nay—no thanks, money is of no value to me; and this is the one +pleasure I have had for many weary months. Think well of Vincenzo—he +is an excellent fellow. And all I ask of you is, that you keep this +little dowry a secret till the day of your fair child's espousals." +</P> + +<P> +Before I could prevent her the enthusiastic woman had seized my hand +and kissed it. Then she lifted her head with the proud free-born +dignity of a Roman matron; her broad bosom heaved, and her strong voice +quivered with suppressed emotion. +</P> + +<P> +"I thank you, signor," she said, simply, "for Lilla's sake! Not that my +little one needs more than her mother's hands have toiled for, thanks +be to the blessed saints who have had us both in their keeping! But +this is a special blessing of God sent through your hands, and I should +be unworthy of all prosperity were I not grateful. Eccellenza, pardon +me, but my eyes are quick to see that you have suffered sorrow. Good +actions lighten grief! We will pray for your happiness, Lilla and I, +till the last breath leaves our lips. Believe it—the name of our +benefactor shall be lifted to the saints night and morning, and who +knows but good may come of it!" +</P> + +<P> +I smiled faintly. +</P> + +<P> +"Good will come of it, my excellent signora, though I am all unworthy +of your prayers. Rather pray," and I sighed heavily, "for the dead, +'that they may be loosed from their sins.'" +</P> + +<P> +The good woman looked at me with a sort of kindly pity mingled with +awe, then murmuring once more her thanks and blessing, she left the +room. A few minutes afterward Vincenzo entered. I addressed him +cheerfully. +</P> + +<P> +"Absence is the best test of love, Vincenzo; prepare all for our +departure! We shall leave Avellino the day after to-morrow." +</P> + +<P> +And so we did. Lilla looked slightly downcast, but Vincenzo seemed +satisfied, and I augured from their faces, and from the mysterious +smile of Signor Monti, that all was going well. I left the beautiful +mountain town with regret, knowing I should see it no more. I touched +Lilla's fair cheek lightly at parting, and took what I knew was my last +look into the sweet candid young face. Yet the consciousness that I had +done some little good gave my tired heart a sense of satisfaction and +repose—a feeling I had not experienced since I died and rose again +from the dead. +</P> + +<P> +On the last day of January I returned to Naples, after an absence of +more than a month, and was welcomed back by all my numerous +acquaintance with enthusiasm. The Marquis D'Avencourt had informed me +rightly—the affair of the duel was a thing of the past—an almost +forgotten circumstance. The carnival was in full riot, the streets were +scenes of fantastic mirth and revelry; there was music and song, +dancing and masquerading, and feasting. But I withdrew from the tumult +of merriment, and absorbed myself in the necessary preparations for—my +marriage. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap30"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXX. +</H3> + +<P> +Looking back on the incidents of those strange feverish weeks that +preceded my wedding-day, they seemed to me like the dreams of a dying +man. Shifting colors, confused images, moments of clear light, hours of +long darkness—all things gross, refined, material, and spiritual were +shaken up in my life like the fragments in a kaleidoscope, ever +changing into new forms and bewildering patterns. My brain was clear; +yet I often questioned myself whether I was not going mad—whether all +the careful methodical plans I formed were but the hazy fancies of a +hopelessly disordered mind? Yet no; each detail of my scheme was too +complete, too consistent, too business-like for that. A madman may have +a method of action to a certain extent, but there is always some slight +slip, some omission, some mistake which helps to discover his +condition. Now, <I>I</I> forgot nothing—I had the composed exactitude of a +careful banker who balances his accounts with the most elaborate +regularity. I can laugh to think of it all now; but THEN—then I moved, +spoke, and acted like a human machine impelled by stronger forces than +my own—in all things precise, in all things inflexible. +</P> + +<P> +Within the week of my return from Avellino my coming marriage with the +Countess Romani was announced. Two days after it had been made public, +while sauntering across the Largo del Castello, I met the Marquis +D'Avencourt. I had not seen him since the morning of the duel, and his +presence gave me a sort of nervous shock. He was exceedingly cordial, +though I fancied he was also slightly embarrassed After a few +commonplace remarks he said, abruptly: +</P> + +<P> +"So your marriage will positively take place?" +</P> + +<P> +I forced a laugh. +</P> + +<P> +"Ma! certamente! Do you doubt it?" +</P> + +<P> +His handsome face clouded and his manner grew still more constrained. +</P> + +<P> +"No; but I thought—I had hoped—" +</P> + +<P> +"Mon cher," I said, airily, "I perfectly understand to what you allude. +But we men of the world are not fastidious—we know better than to pay +any heed to the foolish love-fancies of a woman before her marriage, so +long as she does not trick us afterward. The letters you sent me were +trifles, mere trifles! In wedding the Contessa Romani I assure you I +believe I secure the most virtuous as well as the most lovely woman in +Europe!" And I laughed again heartily. +</P> + +<P> +D'Avencourt looked puzzled; but he was a punctilious man, and knew how +to steer clear of a delicate subject. He smiled. +</P> + +<P> +"A la bonne heure," he said—"I wish you joy with all my heart! You are +the best judge of your own happiness; as for me—vive la liberte!" +</P> + +<P> +And with a gay parting salute he left me. No one else in the city +appeared to share his foreboding scruples, if he had any, about my +forthcoming marriage. It was everywhere talked of with as much interest +and expectation as though it were some new amusement invented to +heighten the merriment of carnival. Among other things, I earned the +reputation of being a most impatient lover, for now I would consent to +no delays. I hurried all the preparations on with feverish +precipitation. I had very little difficulty in persuading Nina that the +sooner our wedding took place the better; she was to the full as eager +as myself, as ready to rush on her own destruction as Guido had been. +Her chief passion was avarice, and the repeated rumors of my supposed +fabulous wealth had aroused her greed from the very moment she had +first met me in my assumed character of the Count Oliva. As soon as her +engagement to me became known in Naples, she was an object of envy to +all those of her own sex who, during the previous autumn, had laid out +their store of fascinations to entrap me in vain—and this made her +perfectly happy. Perhaps the supremest satisfaction a woman of this +sort can attain to is the fact of making her less fortunate sisters +discontented and miserable! I loaded her, of course, with the costliest +gifts, and she, being the sole mistress of the fortune left her by her +"late husband," as well as of the unfortunate Guido's money, set no +limits to her extravagance. She ordered the most expensive and +elaborate costumes; she was engaged morning after morning with +dressmakers, tailors, and milliners, and she was surrounded by a +certain favored "set" of female friends, for whose benefit she +displayed the incoming treasures of her wardrobe till they were ready +to cry for spite and vexation, though they had to smile and hold in +their wrath and outraged vanity beneath the social mask of complacent +composure. And Nina loved nothing better than to torture the poor women +who were stinted of pocket-money with the sight of shimmering satins, +soft radiating plushes, rich velvets, embroidery studded with real +gems, pieces of costly old lace, priceless scents, and articles of +bijouterie; she loved also to dazzle the eyes and bewilder the brains +of young girls, whose finest toilet was a garb of simplest white stuff +unadorned save by a cluster of natural blossoms, and to send them away +sick at heart, pining for they knew not what, dissatisfied with +everything, and grumbling at fate for not permitting them to deck +themselves in such marvelous "arrangements" of costume as those +possessed by the happy, the fortunate future Countess Oliva. +</P> + +<P> +Poor maidens! had they but known all they would not have envied her! +Women are too fond of measuring happiness by the amount of fine clothes +they obtain, and I truly believe dress is the one thing that never +fails to console them. How often a fit of hysterics can be cut short by +the opportune arrival of a new gown! +</P> + +<P> +My wife, in consideration of her approaching second nuptial, had thrown +off her widow's crape, and now appeared clad in those soft subdued +half-tints of color that suited her fragile, fairy-like beauty to +perfection. All her old witcheries and her graceful tricks of manner +and speech were put forth again for my benefit. I knew them all so +well! I understood the value of her light caresses and languishing +looks so thoroughly! She was very anxious to attain the full dignity of +her position as the wife of so rich a nobleman as I was reputed to be, +therefore she raised no objection when I fixed the day of our marriage +for Giovedi Grasso. Then the fooling and mumming, the dancing, +shrieking, and screaming would be at its height; it pleased my whim to +have this other piece of excellent masquerading take place at the same +time. +</P> + +<P> +The wedding was to be as private as possible, owing to my wife's +"recent sad bereavements," as she herself said with a pretty sigh and +tearful, pleading glance. It would take place in the chapel of San +Gennaro, adjoining the cathedral. We were married there before! During +the time that intervened, Nina's manner was somewhat singular. To me +she was often timid, and sometimes half conciliatory. Now and then I +caught her large dark eyes fixed on me with a startled, anxious look, +but this expression soon passed away. She was subject, too, to wild +fits of merriment, and anon to moods of absorbed and gloomy silence. I +could plainly see that she was strung up to an extreme pitch of nervous +excitement and irritability, but I asked her no questions. If—I +thought—if she tortured herself with memories, all the better—if she +saw, or fancied she saw, the resemblance between me and her "dear dead +Fabio," it suited me that she should be so racked and bewildered. +</P> + +<P> +I came and went to and fro from the villa as I pleased. I wore my dark +glasses as usual, and not even Giacomo could follow me with his +peering, inquisitive gaze; for since the night he had been hurled so +fiercely to the ground by Guido's reckless and impatient hand, the poor +old man had been paralyzed, and had spoken no word. He lay in an upper +chamber, tended by Assunta, and my wife had already written to his +relatives in Lombardy, asking them to send for him home. +</P> + +<P> +"Of what use to keep him?" she had asked me. +</P> + +<P> +True! Of what use to give even roof-shelter to a poor old human +creature, maimed, broken, and useless for evermore? After long years of +faithful service, turn him out, cast him forth! If he die of neglect, +starvation, and ill-usage, what matter?—he is a worn-out tool, his day +is done—let him perish. I would not plead for him—why should I? I had +made my own plans for his comfort—plans shortly to be carried out; and +in the mean time Assunta nursed him tenderly as he lay speechless, with +no more strength than a year-old baby, and only a bewildered pain in +his upturned, lack-luster eyes. One incident occurred during these last +days of my vengeance that struck a sharp pain to my heart, together +with a sense of the bitterest anger. I had gone up to the villa +somewhat early in the morning, and on crossing the lawn I saw a dark +form stretched motionless on one of the paths that led directly up to +the house. I went to examine it, and started back in horror—it was my +dog Wyvis shot dead. His silky black head and forepaws were dabbled in +blood—his honest brown eyes were glazed with the film of his dying +agonies. Sickened and infuriated at the sight, I called to a gardener +who was trimming the shrubbery. +</P> + +<P> +"Who has done this?" I demanded. +</P> + +<P> +The man looked pityingly at the poor bleeding remains, and said, in a +low voice: +</P> + +<P> +"It was madama's order, signor. The dog bit her yesterday; we shot him +at daybreak." +</P> + +<P> +I stooped to caress the faithful animal's body, and as I stroked the +silky coat my eyes were dim with tears. +</P> + +<P> +"How did it happen?" I asked in smothered accents. "Was your lady hurt?" +</P> + +<P> +The gardener shrugged his shoulders and sighed. +</P> + +<P> +"Ma!—no! But he tore the lace on her dress with his teeth and grazed +her hand. It was little, but enough. He will bite no more—povera +bestia!" +</P> + +<P> +I gave the fellow five francs. +</P> + +<P> +"I liked the dog," I said briefly, "he was a faithful creature. Bury +him decently under that tree," and I pointed to the giant cypress on +the lawn, "and take this money for your trouble." +</P> + +<P> +He looked surprised but grateful, and promised to do my bidding. Once +more sorrowfully caressing the fallen head of perhaps the truest friend +I ever possessed, I strode hastily into the house, and met Nina coming +out of her morning-room, clad in one of her graceful trailing garments, +in which soft lavender hues were blended like the shaded colors of late +and early violets. +</P> + +<P> +"So Wyvis has been shot?" I said, abruptly. +</P> + +<P> +She gave a slight shudder. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, yes; is it not sad? But I was compelled to have it done. Yesterday +I went past his kennel within reach of his chain, and he sprung +furiously at me for no reason at all. See!" And holding up her small +hand she showed me three trifling marks in the delicate flesh. "I felt +that you would be so unhappy if you thought I kept a dog that was at +all dangerous, so I determined to get rid of him. It is always painful +to have a favorite animal killed; but really Wyvis belonged to my poor +husband, and I think he has never been quite safe since his master's +death, and now Giacomo is ill—" +</P> + +<P> +"I see!" I said, curtly, cutting her explanations short. +</P> + +<P> +Within myself I thought how much more sweet and valuable was the dog's +life than hers. Brave Wyvis—good Wyvis! He had done his best—he had +tried to tear her dainty flesh; his honest instincts had led him to +attempt rough vengeance on the woman he had felt was his master's foe. +And he had met his fate, and died in the performance of duty. But I +said no more on the subject. The dog's death was not alluded to again +by either Nina or myself. He lay in his mossy grave under the cypress +boughs—his memory untainted by any lie, and his fidelity enshrined in +my heart as a thing good and gracious, far exceeding the +self-interested friendship of so-called Christian humanity. +</P> + +<P> +The days passed slowly on. To the revelers who chased the flying steps +of carnival with shouting and laughter, no doubt the hours were brief, +being so brimful of merriment; but to me, who heard nothing save the +measured ticking of my own timepiece of revenge, and who saw naught +save its hands, that every second drew nearer to the last and fatal +figure on the dial, the very moments seemed long and laden with +weariness. I roamed the streets of the city aimlessly, feeling more +like a deserted stranger than a well-known envied nobleman, whose +wealth made him the cynosure of all eyes. The riotous glee, the music, +the color that whirled and reeled through the great street of Toledo at +this season bewildered and pained me. Though I knew and was accustomed +to the wild vagaries of carnival, yet this year they seemed to be out +of place, distracting, senseless, and all unfamiliar. +</P> + +<P> +Sometimes I escaped from the city tumult and wandered out to the +cemetery. There I would stand, dreamily looking at the freshly turned +sods above Guido Ferrari's grave. No stone marked the spot as yet, but +it was close to the Romani vault—not more than a couple of yards away +from the iron grating that barred the entrance to that dim and fatal +charnel-house. I had a drear fascination for the place, and more than +once I went to the opening of that secret passage made by the brigands +to ascertain if all was safe and undisturbed. Everything was as I had +left it, save that the tangle of brush-wood had become thicker, and +weeds and brambles had sprung up, making it less visible than before, +and probably rendering it more impassable. By a fortunate accident I +had secured the key of the vault. I knew that for family burial-places +of this kind there are always two keys—one left in charge of the +keeper of the cemetery, the other possessed by the person or persons to +whom the mausoleum belongs, and this other I managed to obtain. +</P> + +<P> +On one occasion, being left for some time alone in my own library at +the villa, I remembered that in an upper drawer of an old oaken +escritoire that stood there, had always been a few keys belonging to +the doors of cellars and rooms in the house. I looked, and found them +lying there as usual; they all had labels attached to them, signifying +their use, and I turned them over impatiently, not finding what I +sought. I was about to give up the search, when I perceived a large +rusty iron key that had slipped to the back of the drawer; I pulled it +out, and to my satisfaction it was labeled "Mausoleum." I immediately +took possession of it, glad to have obtained so useful and necessary an +implement; I knew that I should soon need it. The cemetery was quite +deserted at this festive season—no one visited it to lay wreaths of +flowers or sacred mementoes on the last resting-places of their +friends. In the joys of the carnival who thinks of the dead? In my +frequent walks there I was always alone; I might have opened my own +vault and gone down into it without being observed, but I did not; I +contented myself with occasionally trying the key in the lock, and +assuring myself that it worked without difficulty. +</P> + +<P> +Returning from one of these excursions late on a mild afternoon toward +the end of the week preceding my marriage, I bent my steps toward the +Molo, where I saw a picturesque group of sailors and girls dancing one +of those fantastic, graceful dances of the country, in which +impassioned movement and expressive gesticulation are everything. Their +steps were guided and accompanied by the sonorous twanging of a +full-toned guitar and the tinkling beat of a tambourine. Their +handsome, animated faces, their flashing eyes and laughing lips, their +gay, many-colored costumes, the glitter of beads on the brown necks of +the maidens, the red caps jauntily perched on the thick black curls of +the fishermen—all made up a picture full of light and life thrown up +into strong relief against the pale gray and amber tints of the +February sky and sea; while shadowing overhead frowned the stern dark +walls of the Castel Nuovo. +</P> + +<P> +It was such a scene as the English painter Luke Fildes might love to +depict on his canvas—the one man of to-day who, though born of the +land of opaque mists and rain-burdened clouds, has, notwithstanding +these disadvantages, managed to partly endow his brush with the +exhaustless wealth and glow of the radiant Italian color. I watched the +dance with a faint sense of pleasure—it was full of so much harmony +and delicacy of rhythm. The lad who thrummed the guitar broke out now +and then into song—a song in dialect that fitted into the music of the +dance as accurately as a rosebud into its calyx. I could not +distinguish all the words he sung, but the refrain was always the same, +and he gave it in every possible inflection and variety of tone, from +grave to gay, from pleading to pathetic. +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + "Che bella cosa e de morire acciso,<BR> + Nnanze a la porta de la nnamorata!"<BR> + [Footnote: Neapolitan dialect.]<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +meaning literally—"How beautiful a thing to die, suddenly slain at the +door of one's beloved!" +</P> + +<P> +There was no sense in the thing, I thought half angrily—it was a +stupid sentiment altogether. Yet I could not help smiling at the +ragged, barefooted rascal who sung it: he seemed to feel such a +gratification in repeating it, and he rolled his black eyes with +lovelorn intensity, and breathed forth sighs that sounded through his +music with quite a touching earnestness. Of course he was only +following the manner of all Neapolitans, namely, acting his song; they +all do it, and cannot help themselves. But this boy had a peculiarly +roguish way of pausing and crying forth a plaintive "Ah!" before he +added "Che bella cosa," etc., which gave point and piquancy to his +absurd ditty. He was evidently brimful of mischief—his expression +betokened it; no doubt he was one of the most thorough little scamps +that ever played at "morra," but there was a charm about his handsome +dirty face and unkempt hair, and I watched him amusedly, glad to be +distracted for a few minutes from the tired inner workings of my own +unhappy thoughts. In time to come, so I mused, this very boy might +learn to set his song about the "beloved" to a sterner key, and might +find it meet, not to be slain himself, but to slay HER! Such a +thing—in Naples—was more than probable. By and by the dance ceased, +and I recognized in one of the breathless, laughing sailors my old +acquaintance Andrea Luziani, with whom I had sailed to Palermo. The +sight of him relieved me from a difficulty which had puzzled me for +some days, and as soon as the little groups of men and women had +partially dispersed, I walked up to him and touched him on the +shoulder. He started, looked round surprised, and did not appear to +recognize me. I remembered that when he had seen me I had not grown a +beard, neither had I worn dark spectacles. I recalled my name to him; +his face cleared and he smiled. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah! buon giorno, eccellenza!" he cried. "A thousand pardons that I did +not at first know you! Often have I thought of you! often have I heard +your name—ah! what a name! Rich, great, generous!—ah! what a glad +life! And on the point of marrying—ah, Dio! love makes all the +troubles go—so!" and taking his cigar from his mouth, he puffed a ring +of pale smoke into the air and laughed gayly. Then suddenly lifting his +cap from his clustering black hair, he added, "All joy be with you, +eccellenza!" +</P> + +<P> +I smiled and thanked him. I noticed he looked at me curiously. +</P> + +<P> +"You think I have changed in appearance, my friend?" I said. +</P> + +<P> +The Sicilian looked embarrassed. +</P> + +<P> +"Ebbene! we must all change," he answered, lightly, evading my glance. +"The days pass on—each day takes a little bit of youth away with it. +One grows old without knowing it!" +</P> + +<P> +I laughed. +</P> + +<P> +"I see," I observed. "You think I have aged somewhat since you saw me?" +</P> + +<P> +"A little, eccellenza," he frankly confessed. +</P> + +<P> +"I have suffered severe illness," I said, quietly, "and my eyes are +still weak, as you perceive," and I touched my glasses. "But I shall +get stronger in time. Can you come with me for a few moments? I want +your help in a matter of importance." +</P> + +<P> +He nodded a ready assent and followed me. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap31"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXXI. +</H3> + +<P> +We left the Molo, and paused at a retired street corner leading from +the Chiaja. +</P> + +<P> +"You remember Carmelo Neri?" I asked. +</P> + +<P> +Andrea shrugged his shoulders with an air of infinite commiseration. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah! povero diavolo! Well do I remember him! A bold fellow and brave, +with a heart in him, too, if one did but know where to find it. And now +he drags the chain! Well, well, no doubt it is what he deserves; but I +say, and always will maintain, there are many worse men than Carmelo." +</P> + +<P> +I briefly related how I had seen the captured brigand in the square at +Palermo and had spoken with him. "I mentioned you," I added, "and he +bade me tell you Teresa had killed herself." +</P> + +<P> +"Ah! that I well know," said the little captain, who had listened to me +intently, and over whose mobile face flitted a shadow of tender pity, +as he sighed. "Poverinetta! So fragile and small! To think she had the +force to plunge the knife in her breast! As well imagine a little bird +flying down to pierce itself on an uplifted bayonet. Ay, ay! women will +do strange things—and it is certain she loved Carmelo." +</P> + +<P> +"You would help him to escape again if you could, no doubt?" I inquired +with a half smile. +</P> + +<P> +The ready wit of the Sicilian instantly asserted itself. +</P> + +<P> +"Not I, eccellenza," he replied, with an air of dignity and most +virtuous honesty. "No, no, not now. The law is the law, and I, Andrea +Luziani, am not one to break it. No, Carmelo must take his punishment; +it is for life they say—and hard as it seems, it is but just. When the +little Teresa was in the question, look you, what could I do? but +now—let the saints that choose help Carmelo, for I will not." +</P> + +<P> +I laughed as I met the audacious flash of his eyes; I knew, despite his +protestations, that if Carmelo Neri ever did get clear of the galleys, +it would be an excellent thing for him if Luziani's vessel chanced to +be within reach. +</P> + +<P> +"You have your brig the 'Laura' still?" I asked him. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, eccellenza, the Madonna be praised! And she has been newly rigged +and painted, and she is as trig and trim a craft as you can meet with +in all the wide blue waters of the Mediterranean." +</P> + +<P> +"Now you see," I sad, impressively, "I have a friend, a relative, who +is in trouble: he wishes to get away from Naples quietly and in secret. +Will you help him? You shall be paid whatever you think proper to +demand." +</P> + +<P> +The Sicilian looked puzzled. He puffed meditatively at his cigar and +remained silent. +</P> + +<P> +"He is not pursued by the law," I continued, noting his hesitation. "He +is simply involved in a cruel difficulty brought upon him by his own +family—he seeks to escape from unjust persecution." +</P> + +<P> +Andrea's brow cleared. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, if that is the case, eccellenza, I am at your service. But where +does your friend desire to go?" +</P> + +<P> +I paused for a moment and considered. +</P> + +<P> +"To Civita Vecchia," I said at last, "from that port he can obtain a +ship to take him to his further destination." +</P> + +<P> +The captain's expressive face fell—he looked very dubious. +</P> + +<P> +"To Civita Vecchia is a long way, a very long way," he said, +regretfully; "and it is the bad season, and there are cross currents +and contrary winds. With all the wish in the world to please you, +eccellenza, I dare not run the 'Laura' so far; but there is another +means—" +</P> + +<P> +And interrupting himself he considered awhile in silence. I waited +patiently for him to speak. +</P> + +<P> +"Whether it would suit your friend I know not," he said at last, laying +his hand confidentially on my arm, "but there is a stout brig leaving +here for Civita Vecchia on Friday morning next—" +</P> + +<P> +"The day after Giovedi Grasso?" I queried, with a smile he did not +understand. He nodded. +</P> + +<P> +"Exactly so. She carries a cargo of Lacrima Cristi, and she is a swift +sailer. I know her captain—he is a good soul; but," and Andrea laughed +lightly, "he is like the rest of us—he loves money. You do not count +the francs—no, they are nothing to you—but we look to the soldi. Now, +if it please you I will make him a certain offer of passage money, as +large as you shall choose, also I will tell him when to expect his one +passenger, and I can almost promise you that he will not say no!" +</P> + +<P> +This proposal fitted in so excellently with my plans that I accepted +it, and at once named an exceptionally munificent sum for the passage +required. Andrea's eyes glistened as he heard. +</P> + +<P> +"It is a little fortune!" he cried, enthusiastically. "Would that I +could earn as much in twenty voyages! But one should not be +churlish—such luck cannot fall in all men's way." +</P> + +<P> +I smiled. +</P> + +<P> +"And do you think, amico, I will suffer you to go unrewarded?" I said. +And placing two twenty-franc pieces in his brown palm I added, "As you +rightly said, francs are nothing to me. Arrange this little matter +without difficulty, and you shall not be forgotten. You can call at my +hotel to-morrow or the next day, when you have settled everything—here +is the address," and I penciled it on my card and gave it to him; "but +remember, this is a secret matter, and I rely upon you to explain it as +such to your friend who commands the brig going to Civita Vecchia. He +must ask no questions of his passenger—the more silence the more +discretion—and when once he has landed him at his destination he will +do well to straightway forget all about him. You understand?" +</P> + +<P> +Andrea nodded briskly. +</P> + +<P> +"Si, si, signer. He has a bad memory as it is—it shall grow worse at +your command! Believe it!" +</P> + +<P> +I laughed, shook hands, and parted with the friendly little fellow, he +returning to the Molo, and I slowly walking homeward by way of the +Villa Reale. An open carriage coming swiftly toward me attracted my +attention; as it drew nearer I recognized the prancing steeds and the +familiar liveries. A fair woman clad in olive velvets and Russian +sables looked out smiling, and waved her hand. +</P> + +<P> +It was my wife—my betrothed bride, and beside her sat the Duchess di +Marina, the most irreproachable of matrons, famous for her piety not +only in Naples but throughout Italy. So immaculate was she that it was +difficult to imagine her husband daring to caress that upright, +well-dressed form, or venturing to kiss those prim lips, colder than +the carven beads of her jeweled rosary. Yet there was a story about her +too—an old story that came from Padua—of how a young and handsome +nobleman had been found dead at her palace doors, stabbed to the heart. +Perhaps—who knows—he also might have thought— +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + "Che bella cosa e de morire accisa,<BR> + Nnanze a la porta de la nnamorata!"<BR> +</P> + +<P> +Some said the duke had killed him; but nothing could be proved, nothing +was certain. The duke was silent, so was is duchess; and Scandal +herself sat meekly with closed lips in the presence of this stately and +august couple, whose bearing toward each other in society was a lesson +of complete etiquette to the world. What went on behind the scenes no +one could tell. I raised my hat with the profoundest deference as the +carriage containing the two ladies dashed by; I knew not which was the +cleverest hypocrite of the two, therefore I did equal honor to both. I +was in a meditative and retrospective mood, and when I reached the +Toledo the distracting noises, the cries of the flower-girls, and +venders of chestnuts and confetti, the nasal singing of the +street-rhymers, the yells of punchinello, and the answering laughter of +the populace, were all beyond my endurance. To gratify a sudden whim +that seized me, I made my way into the lowest and dirtiest quarters of +the city, and roamed through wretched courts and crowded alleys, trying +to discover that one miserable street which until now I had always +avoided even the thought of, where I had purchased the coral-fisher's +clothes on the day of my return from the grave. I went in many wrong +directions, but at last I found it, and saw at a glance that the old +rag-dealer's shop was still there, in its former condition of +heterogeneous filth and disorder. A man sat at the door smoking, but +not the crabbed and bent figure I had before seen—this was a younger +and stouter individual, with a Jewish cast of countenance, and dark, +ferocious eyes. I approached him, and seeing by my dress and manner +that I was some person of consequence, he rose, drew his pipe from his +mouth, and raised his greasy cap with a respectful yet suspicious air. +</P> + +<P> +"Are you the owner of this place?" I asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Si, signor!" +</P> + +<P> +"What has become of the old man who used to live here?" +</P> + +<P> +He laughed, shrugged his shoulders, and drew his pipe-stem across his +throat with a significant gesture. +</P> + +<P> +"So, signor!—with a sharp knife! He had a good deal of blood, too, for +so withered a body. To kill himself in that fashion was stupid: he +spoiled an Indian shawl that was on his bed, worth more than a thousand +francs. One would not have thought he had so much blood." +</P> + +<P> +And the fellow put back his pipe in his mouth and smoked complacently. +I heard in sickened silence. +</P> + +<P> +"He was mad, I suppose?" I said at last. +</P> + +<P> +The long pipe was again withdrawn. +</P> + +<P> +"Mad? Well, the people say so. I for one think he was very +reasonable—all except that matter of the shawl—he should have taken +that off his bed first. But he was wise enough to know that he was of +no use to anybody—he did the best he could! Did you know him, signor?" +</P> + +<P> +"I gave him money once," I replied, evasively; then taking out a few +francs I handed them to this evil-eyed, furtive-looking son of Israel, +who received the gift with effusive gratitude. +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you for your information," I said coldly. "Good-day." +</P> + +<P> +"Good-day to you, signor," he replied, resuming his seat and watching +me curiously as I turned away. +</P> + +<P> +I passed out of the wretched street feeling faint and giddy. The end of +the miserable rag-dealer been told to me briefly and brutally +enough—yet somehow I was moved to a sense of regret and pity. Abjectly +poor, half crazy, and utterly friendless, he had been a brother of mine +in the same bitterness and irrevocable sorrow. I wondered with a half +shudder—would my end be like his? When my vengeance was completed +should I grow shrunken, and old, and mad, and one lurid day draw a +sharp knife across my throat as a finish to my life's history? I walked +more rapidly to shake off the morbid fancies that thus insidiously +crept in on my brain; and as before, the noise and glitter of the +Toledo had been unbearable, so now I found it a relief and a +distraction. Two maskers bedizened in violet and gold whizzed past me +like a flash, one of them yelling a stale jest concerning la +nnamorata—a jest I scarcely heard, and certainly had no heart or wit +to reply to. A fair woman I knew leaned out of a gayly draped balcony +and dropped a bunch of roses at my feet; out of courtesy I stooped to +pick them up, and then raising my hat I saluted the dark-eyed donor, +but a few paces on I gave them away to a ragged child. Of all flowers +that bloom, they were, and still are, the most insupportable to me. +What is it the English poet Swinburne says— +</P> + +<P> + "I shall never be friends again with roses!"<BR> +</P> + +<P> +My wife wore them always: even on that night when I had seen her +clasped in Guido's arms, a red rose on her breast had been crushed in +that embrace—a rose whose withered leaves I still possess. In the +forest solitude where I now dwell there are no roses—and I am glad! +The trees are too high, the tangle of bramble and coarse brushwood too +dense—nothing grows here but a few herbs and field flowers—weeds +unfit for wearing by fine ladies, yet to my taste infinitely sweeter +than all the tenderly tinted cups of fragrance, whose colors and odors +are spoiled to me forever. I am unjust, say you? the roses are innocent +of evil? True enough, but their perfume awakens memory, and—I strive +always to forget! +</P> + +<P> +I reached my hotel that evening to find that I was an hour late for +dinner, an unusual circumstance, which had caused Vincenzo some +disquietude, as was evident from the relieved expression of his face +when I entered. For some days the honest fellow had watched me with +anxiety; my abstracted moods, the long solitary walks I was in the +habit of taking, the evenings I passed in my room writing, with the +doors locked—all this behavior on my part exercised his patience, I +have no doubt, to the utmost limit, and I could see he had much ado to +observe his usual discretion and tact, and refrain from asking +questions. On this particular occasion I dined very hastily, for I had +promised to join my wife and two of her lady friends at the theater +that night. +</P> + +<P> +When I arrived there, she was already seated in her box, looking +radiantly beautiful. She was attired in some soft, sheeny, clinging +primrose stuff, and the brigand's jewels I had given her through +Guido's hands, flashed brilliantly on her uncovered neck and arms. She +greeted me with her usual child-like enthusiasm as I entered, bearing +the customary offering—a costly bouquet, set in a holder of +mother-of-pearl studded with turquois, for her acceptance. I bowed to +her lady friends, both of whom I knew, and then stood beside her +watching the stage. The comedietta played there was the airiest +trifle—it turned on the old worn-out story—a young wife, an aged, +doting husband, and a lover whose principles were, of course, of the +"noblest" type. The husband was fooled (naturally), and the chief +amusement of the piece appeared to consist in his being shut out of his +own house in dressing-gown and slippers during a pelting storm of rain, +while his spouse (who was particularly specified as "pure") enjoyed a +luxurious supper with her highly moral and virtuous admirer. My wife +laughed delightedly at the poor jokes and the stale epigrams, and +specially applauded the actress who successfully supported the chief +role. This actress, by the way, was a saucy, brazen-faced jade, who had +a trick of flashing her black eyes, tossing her head, and heaving her +ample bosom tumultuously whenever she hissed out the words Vecchiaccio +maladetto [Footnote: Accursed, villainous old monster.] at her +discomfited husband, which had an immense effect on the audience—an +audience which entirely sympathized with her, though she was +indubitably in the wrong. I watched Nina in some derision as she nodded +her fair head and beat time to the music with her painted fan. I bent +over her. +</P> + +<P> +"The play pleases you?" I asked, in a low tone. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, indeed!" she answered, with a laughing light in her eyes. "The +husband is so droll! It is all very amusing." +</P> + +<P> +"The husband is always droll!" I remarked, smiling coldly. "It is not a +temptation to marry when one knows that as a husband one must always +look ridiculous." +</P> + +<P> +She glanced up at me. +</P> + +<P> +"Cesare! You surely are not vexed? Of course it is only in plays that +it happens so!" +</P> + +<P> +"Plays, cara mia, are often nothing but the reflex of real life," I +said. "But let us hope there are exceptions, and that all husbands are +not fools." +</P> + +<P> +She smiled expressively and sweetly, toyed with the flowers I had given +her, and turned her eyes again to the stage. I said no more, and was a +somewhat moody companion for the rest of the evening. As we all left +the theater one of the ladies who had accompanied Nina said lightly: +</P> + +<P> +"You seem dull and out of spirits, conte?" +</P> + +<P> +I forced a smile. +</P> + +<P> +"Not I, signora! Surely you do not find me guilty of such ungallantry? +Were I dull in YOUR company I should prove myself the most ungrateful +of my sex." +</P> + +<P> +She sighed somewhat impatiently. She was very young and very lovely, +and, as far as I knew, innocent, and of a more thoughtful and poetical +temperament than most women. +</P> + +<P> +"That is the mere language of compliment," she said, looking straightly +at me with her clear, candid eyes. "You are a true courtier! Yet often +I think your courtesy is reluctant." +</P> + +<P> +I looked at her in some surprise. +</P> + +<P> +"Reluctant? Signora, pardon me if I do not understand!" +</P> + +<P> +"I mean," she continued, still regarding me steadily, though a faint +blush warmed the clear pallor of her delicate complexion, "that you do +not really like us women; you say pretty things to us, and you try to +be amiable in our company, but you are in truth averse to our ways—you +are sceptical—you think we are all hypocrites." +</P> + +<P> +I laughed a little coldly. +</P> + +<P> +"Really, signora, your words place me in a very awkward position. Were +I to tell you my real sentiments—" +</P> + +<P> +She interrupted me with a touch of her fan on my arm, and smiled +gravely. +</P> + +<P> +"You would say, 'Yes, you are right, signora. I never see one of your +sex without suspecting treachery.' Ah, Signor Conte, we women are +indeed full of faults, but nothing can blind our instinct!" She paused, +and her brilliant eyes softened as she added gently, "I pray your +marriage may be a very happy one." +</P> + +<P> +I was silent. I was not even courteous enough to thank her for the +wish. I was half angered that this girl should have been able to probe +my thoughts so quickly and unerringly. Was I so bad an actor after all? +I glanced down at her as she leaned lightly on my arm. +</P> + +<P> +"Marriage is a mere comedietta," I said, abruptly and harshly. "We have +seen it acted to-night. In a few days I shall play the part of the +chief buffoon—in other words, the husband." +</P> + +<P> +And I laughed. My young companion looked startled, almost frightened, +and over her fair face there flitted an expression of something like +aversion. I did not care—why should I?—and there was no time for more +words between us, for we had reached the outer vestibule of the theater. +</P> + +<P> +My wife's carriage was drawn up at the entrance—my wife herself was +stepping into it. I assisted her, and also her two friends, and then +stood with uncovered head at the door wishing them all the "felicissima +notte." Nina put her tiny jeweled hand through the carriage window—I +stooped and kissed it lightly. Drawing it back quickly, she selected a +white gardenia from her bouquet and gave it to me with a bewitching +smile. +</P> + +<P> +Then the glittering equipage dashed away with a whirl and clatter of +prancing hoofs and rapid wheels, and I stood alone under the wide +portico of the theater—alone, amid the pressing throngs of the people +who were still coming out of the house—holding the strongly scented +gardenia in my hand as vaguely as a fevered man who finds a strange +flower in one of his sick dreams. +</P> + +<P> +After a minute or two I suddenly recollected myself, and throwing the +blossom on the ground, I crushed it savagely beneath my heel—the +penetrating odor rose from its slain petals as though a vessel of +incense had been emptied at my feet. There was a nauseating influence +in it; where had I inhaled that subtle perfume last? I +remembered—Guido Ferrari had worn one of those flowers in his coat at +my banquet—it had been still in his buttonhole when I killed him! +</P> + +<P> +I strode onward and homeward; the streets were full of mirth and music, +but I heeded none of it. I felt, rather than saw, the quiet sky bending +above me dotted with its countless millions of luminous worlds; I was +faintly conscious of the soft plash of murmuring waves mingling with +the dulcet chords of deftly played mandolins echoing from somewhere +down by the shore; but my soul was, as it were, benumbed—my mind, +always on the alert, was for once utterly tired out—my very limbs +ached, and when I at last flung myself on my bed, exhausted, my eyes +closed instantly, and I slept the heavy, motionless sleep of a man +weary unto death. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap32"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXXII. +</H3> + +<P> +"Tout le monde vient a celui qui sait attendre." So wrote the great +Napoleon. The virtue of the aphorism consists in the little words 'qui +sait'. All the world comes to him who KNOWS HOW to wait, <I>I</I> knew this, +and I had waited, and my world—a world of vengeance—came to me at +last. +</P> + +<P> +The slow-revolving wheel of Time brought me to the day before my +strange wedding—the eve of my remarriage with my own wife! All the +preparations were made—nothing was left undone that could add to the +splendor of the occasion. For though the nuptial ceremony was to be +somewhat quiet and private in character, and the marriage breakfast was +to include only a few of our more intimate acquaintances, the +proceedings were by no means to terminate tamely. The romance of these +remarkable espousals was not to find its conclusion in bathos. No; the +bloom and aroma of the interesting event were to be enjoyed in the +evening, when a grand supper and ball, given by me, the happy and +much-to-be-envied bridegroom, was to take place in the hotel which I +had made my residence for so long. No expense was spared for this, the +last entertainment offered by me in my brilliant career as a successful +Count Cesare Oliva. After it, the dark curtain would fall on the +played-out drama, never to rise again. +</P> + +<P> +Everything that art, taste, and royal luxury could suggest was included +in the arrangements for this brilliant ball, to which a hundred and +fifty guests had been invited, not one of whom had refused to attend. +</P> + +<P> +And now—now, in the afternoon of this, the last of my self-imposed +probation—I sat alone with my fair wife in the drawing-room of the +Villa Romani, conversing lightly on various subjects connected with the +festivities of the coming morrow. The long windows were open—the warm +spring sunlight lay like a filmy veil of woven gold on the tender green +of the young grass, birds sung for joy and flitted from branch to +branch, now poising hoveringly above their nests, now soaring with all +the luxury of perfect liberty into the high heaven of cloudless +blue—the great creamy buds of the magnolia looked ready to burst into +wide and splendid flower between their large, darkly shining leaves, +the odor of violets and primroses floated on every delicious breath of +air, and round the wide veranda the climbing white china roses had +already unfurled their little crumpled rosette-like blossoms to the +balmy wind. It was spring in Southern Italy—spring in the land where, +above all other lands, spring is lovely—sudden and brilliant in its +beauty as might be the smile of a happy angel. Gran Dio!—talk of +angels! Had I not a veritable angel for my companion at that moment? +What fair being, even in Mohammed's Paradise of Houris, could outshine +such charms as those which it was my proud privilege to gaze upon +without rebuke—dark eyes, rippling golden hair, a dazzling and perfect +face, a form to tempt the virtue of a Galahad, and lips that an emperor +might long to touch—in vain? Well, no!—not altogether in vain: if his +imperial majesty could offer a bribe large enough—let us say a diamond +the size of a pigeon's egg—he might possibly purchase one, +nay!—perhaps two kisses from that seductive red mouth, sweeter than +the ripest strawberry. I glanced at her furtively from time to time +when she was not aware of my gaze; and glad was I of the sheltering +protection of the dark glasses I wore, for I knew and felt that there +was a terrible look in my eyes—the look of a half-famished tiger ready +to spring on some long-desired piece of prey. She herself was +exceptionally bright and cheerful; with her riante features and agile +movements, she reminded me of some tropical bird of gorgeous plumage +swaying to and fro on a branch of equally gorgeous blossom. +</P> + +<P> +"You are like a prince in a fairy tale, Cesare," she said, with a +little delighted laugh; "everything you do is superbly done! How +pleasant it is to be so rich—there is nothing better in all the world." +</P> + +<P> +"Except love!" I returned, with a grim attempt to be sentimental. +</P> + +<P> +Her large eyes softened like the pleading eyes of a tame fawn. +</P> + +<P> +"Ay, yes!" and she smiled with expressive tenderness, "except love. But +when one has both love and wealth, what a paradise life can be!" +</P> + +<P> +"So great a paradise," I assented, "that it is hardly worth while +trying to get into heaven at all! Will you make earth a heaven for me, +Nina mia, or will you only love me as much—or as little—as you loved +your late husband?" +</P> + +<P> +She shrugged her shoulders and pouted like a spoilt child. +</P> + +<P> +"Why are you so fond of talking about my late husband, Cesare?" she +asked, peevishly; "I am so tired of his name! Besides, one does not +always care to be reminded of dead people—and he died so horribly too! +I have often told you that I did not love him at all. I liked him a +little, and I was quite ill when that dreadful monk, who looked like a +ghost himself, came and told me he was dead. Fancy hearing such a piece +of news suddenly, while I was actually at luncheon with Gui—Signore +Ferrari! We were both shocked, of course, but I did not break my heart +over it. Now I really DO love YOU—" +</P> + +<P> +I drew nearer to her on the couch where she sat, and put one arm round +her. +</P> + +<P> +"You really DO?" I asked, in a half-incredulous tone; "you are quite +sure?" +</P> + +<P> +She laughed and nestled her head on my shoulder. +</P> + +<P> +"I am quite sure! How many times have you asked me that absurd +question? What can I say, what can I do—to make you believe me?" +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing," I answered, and answered truly, for certainly nothing she +could say or do would make me believe her for a moment. "But HOW do you +love me—for myself or for my wealth?" +</P> + +<P> +She raised her head with a proud, graceful gesture. +</P> + +<P> +"For yourself, of course! Do you think mere wealth could ever win MY +affection? No, Cesare! I love you for your own sake—your own merits +have made you dear to me." +</P> + +<P> +I smiled bitterly. She did not see the smile. I slowly caressed her +silky hair. +</P> + +<P> +"For that sweet answer, carissima mia, you shall have your reward. You +called me a fairy prince just now—perhaps I merit that title more than +you know. You remember the jewels I sent you before we ever met?" +</P> + +<P> +"Remember them!" she exclaimed. "They are my choicest ornaments. Such a +parure is fit for an empress." +</P> + +<P> +"And an empress of beauty wears them!" I said, lightly. "But they are +mere trifles compared to other gems which I possess, and which I intend +to offer for your acceptance." +</P> + +<P> +Her eyes glistened with avarice and expectancy. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, let me see them!" she cried. "If they are lovelier than those I +already have, they must be indeed magnificent! And are they all for me?" +</P> + +<P> +"All for you!" I replied, drawing her closer, and playing with the +small white hand on which the engagement-ring I had placed there +sparkled so bravely. "All for my bride. A little hoard of bright +treasures; red rubies, ay—as red as blood-diamonds as brilliant as the +glittering of crossed daggers—sapphires as blue as the +lightning—pearls as pure as the little folded hands of a dead +child—opals as dazzlingly changeful as woman's love! Why do you +start?" for she had moved restlessly in my embrace. "Do I use bad +similes? Ah, cara mia, I am no poet! I can but speak of things as they +seem to my poor judgment. Yes, these precious things are for you, +bellissima; you have nothing to do but to take them, and may they bring +you much joy!" +</P> + +<P> +A momentary pallor had stolen over her face while I was +speaking—speaking in my customary hard, harsh voice, which I strove to +render even harder and harsher than usual—but she soon recovered from +whatever passing emotion she may have felt, and gave herself up to the +joys of vanity and greed, the paramount passions of her nature. +</P> + +<P> +"I shall have the finest jewels in all Naples!" she laughed, +delightedly. "How the women will envy me! But where are these +treasures? May I see them now—immediately?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, not quite immediately," I replied, with a gentle derision that +escaped her observation. "To-morrow night—our marriage night—you +shall have them. And I must also fulfill a promise I made to you. You +wish to see me for once without these," and I touched my dark +glasses—"is it not so?" +</P> + +<P> +She raised her eyes, conveying into their lustrous depths an expression +of melting tenderness. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," she murmured; "I want to see you as you ARE!" +</P> + +<P> +"I fear you will be disappointed," I said, with some irony, "for my +eyes are not pleasant to look at." +</P> + +<P> +"Never mind," she returned, gayly. "I shall be satisfied if I see them +just once, and we need not have much light in the room, as the light +gives you pain. I would not be the cause of suffering to you—no, not +for all the world!" +</P> + +<P> +"You are very amiable," I answered, "more so than I deserve. I hope I +may prove worthy of your tenderness! But to return to the subject of +the jewels. I wish you to see them for yourself and choose the best +among them. Will you come with me to-morrow night? and I will show you +where they are." +</P> + +<P> +She laughed sweetly. +</P> + +<P> +"Are you a miser, Cesare?—and have you some secret hiding-place full +of treasure like Aladdin?" +</P> + +<P> +I smiled. +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps I have," I said. "There are exceptional cases in which one +fears to trust even to a bank. Gems such as those I have to offer you +are almost priceless, and it would be unwise, almost cruel to place +such tempting toys within the reach of even an honest man. At any rate, +if I have been something of a miser, it is for your sake, for your sake +I have personally guarded the treasure that is to be your bridal gift. +You cannot blame me for this?" +</P> + +<P> +In answer she threw her fair arms round my neck and kissed me. Strive +against it as I would, I always shuddered at the touch of her lips—a +mingled sensation of loathing and longing possessed me that sickened +while it stung my soul. +</P> + +<P> +"Amor mio!" she murmured. "As if <I>I</I> could blame you! You have no +faults in my estimation of you. You are good, brave and generous—the +best of men; there is only one thing I wish sometimes—" Here she +paused, and her brow knitted itself frowningly, while a puzzled, pained +expression came into her eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"And that one thing is?" I inquired. +</P> + +<P> +"That you did not remind me so often of Fabio," she said, abruptly and +half angrily. "Not when you speak of him, I do not mean that. What I +mean is, that you have ways like his. Of course I know there is no +actual resemblance, and yet—" She paused again, and again looked +troubled. +</P> + +<P> +"Really, carina mia," I remarked, lightly and jestingly, "you embarrass +me profoundly! This fancy of yours is a most awkward one for me. At the +convent where I visited you, you became quite ill at the contemplation +of my hand, which you declared was like the hand of your deceased +husband; and now—this same foolish idea is returning, when I hoped it +had gone, with other morbid notions of an oversensitive brain, forever. +Perhaps you think I am your late husband?" +</P> + +<P> +And I laughed aloud! She trembled a little, but soon laughed also. +</P> + +<P> +"I know I am very absurd," she said, "perhaps I am a little nervous and +unstrung: I have had too much excitement lately. Tell me more about the +jewels. When will you take me to see them?" +</P> + +<P> +"To-morrow night," I answered, "while the ball is going on, you and I +will slip away together—we shall return again before any of our +friends can miss us. You will come with me?" +</P> + +<P> +"Of course I will," she replied, readily, "only we must not be long +absent, because my maid will have to pack my wedding-dress, and then +there will be the jewels also to put in my strong box. Let me see! We +stay the night at the hotel, and leave for Rome and Paris the first +thing in the morning, do we not?" +</P> + +<P> +"That is the arrangement, certainly," I said, with a cold smile. +</P> + +<P> +"The little place where you have hidden your jewels, you droll Cesare, +is quite near then?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Quite near," I assented, watching her closely. +</P> + +<P> +She laughed and clapped her hands. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I must have them," she exclaimed. "It would be ridiculous to go to +Paris without them. But why will you not get them yourself, Cesare, and +bring them here to me?" +</P> + +<P> +"There are so many," I returned, quietly, "and I do not know which you +would prefer. Some are more valuable than others. And it will give me a +special satisfaction—one that I have long waited for—to see you +making your own choice." +</P> + +<P> +She smiled half shyly, half cunningly. +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps I will make no choice," she whispered, "perhaps I will take +them ALL, Cesare. What will you say then?" +</P> + +<P> +"That you are perfectly welcome to them," I replied. +</P> + +<P> +She looked slightly surprised. +</P> + +<P> +"You are really too good to me, caro mio," she said; "you spoil me." +</P> + +<P> +"CAN you be spoiled?" I asked, half jestingly. "Good women are like +fine brilliants—the more richly they are set the more they shine." +</P> + +<P> +She stroked my hand caressingly. +</P> + +<P> +"No one ever made such pretty speeches to me as you do!" she murmured. +</P> + +<P> +"Not even Guido Ferrari?" I suggested, ironically. +</P> + +<P> +She drew herself up with an inimitably well-acted gesture of lofty +disdain. +</P> + +<P> +"Guido Ferrari!" she exclaimed. "He dared not address me save with the +greatest respect! I was as a queen to him! It was only lately that he +began to presume on the trust left him by my husband, and then he +became too familiar—a mistake on his part, for which YOU punished +him—as he deserved!" +</P> + +<P> +I rose from my seat beside her. I could not answer for my own composure +while sitting so close to the actual murderess of MY friend and HER +lover. Had she forgotten her own "familiar" treatment of the dead +man—the thousand nameless wiles and witcheries and tricks of her +trade, by which she had beguiled his soul and ruined his honor? +</P> + +<P> +"I am glad you are satisfied with my action in that affair," I said, +coldly and steadily. "I myself regret the death of the unfortunate +young man, and shall continue to do so. My nature, unhappily, is an +oversensitive one, and is apt to be affected by trifles. But now, mia +bella, farewell until to-morrow—happy to-morrow!—when I shall call +you mine indeed!" +</P> + +<P> +A warm flush tinted her cheeks; she came to me where I stood, and +leaned against me. +</P> + +<P> +"Shall I not see you again till we meet in the church?" she inquired, +with a becoming bashfulness. +</P> + +<P> +"No. I will leave you this last day of your brief widowhood alone. It +is not well that I should obtrude myself upon your thoughts or prayers. +Stay!" and I caught her hand which toyed with the flower in my +buttonhole. "I see you still wear your former wedding-ring. May I take +it off?" +</P> + +<P> +"Certainly." And she smiled while I deftly drew off the plain gold +circlet I had placed there nearly four years since. +</P> + +<P> +"Will you let me keep it?" +</P> + +<P> +"If you like. <I>I</I> would rather not see it again." +</P> + +<P> +"You shall not," I answered, as I slipped it into my pocket. "It will +be replaced by a new one to-morrow—one that I hope may be the symbol +of more joy to you than this has been." +</P> + +<P> +And as her eyes turned to my face in all their melting, perfidious +languor, I conquered my hatred of her by a strong effort, and stooped +and kissed her. Had I yielded to my real impulses, I would have crushed +her cruelly in my arms, and bruised her delicate flesh with the brutal +ferocity of caresses born of bitterest loathing, not love. But no sign +of my aversion escaped me—all she saw was her elderly looking admirer, +with his calmly courteous demeanor, chill smile, and almost parental +tenderness; and she judged him merely as an influential gentleman of +good position and unlimited income, who was about to make her one of +the most envied women in all Italy. +</P> + +<P> +The fugitive resemblance she traced in me to her "dead" husband was +certainly attributed by her to a purely accidental likeness common to +many persons in this world, where every man, they say, has his double, +and for that matter every woman also. Who does not remember the +touching surprise of Heinrich Heine when, on visiting the +picture-gallery of the Palazzo Durazzo in Genoa, he was brought face to +face with the portrait, as he thought, of a dead woman he had +loved—"Maria la morte." It mattered not to him that the picture was +very old, that it had been painted by Giorgio Barbarelli centuries +before his "Maria" could have lived; he simply declares: "Il est +vraiment d une ressemblance admirable, ressemblant jusqu'au silence de +la mort!" +</P> + +<P> +Such likenesses are common enough, and my wife, though my resemblance +to myself (!) troubled her a little, was very far from imagining the +real truth of the matter, as indeed how should she? What woman, +believing and knowing, as far as anything can be known, her husband to +be dead and fast buried, is likely to accept even the idea of his +possible escape from the tomb! Not one!—else the disconsolate widows +would indeed have reason to be more inconsolable than they appear! +</P> + +<P> +When I left her that morning I found Andrea Luziani waiting for me at +my hotel. He was seated in the outer entrance hall; I bade him follow +me into my private salon. He did so. Abashed at the magnificence of the +apartment, he paused at the doorway, and stood, red cap in hand, +hesitating, though with an amiable smile on his sunburned merry +countenance. +</P> + +<P> +"Come in, amico," I said, with an inviting gesture, "and sit down. All +this tawdry show of velvet and gilding must seem common to your eyes, +that have rested so long on the sparkling pomp of the foaming waves, +the glorious blue curtain of the sky, and the sheeny white of the sails +of the 'Laura' gleaming in the gold of the sun. Would I could live such +a life as yours, Andrea!—there is nothing better under the width of +heaven." +</P> + +<P> +The poetical temperament of the Sicilian was caught and fired by my +words. He at once forgot the splendid appurtenances of wealth and the +costly luxuries that surrounded him; he advanced without embarrassment, +and seated himself on a velvet and gold chair with as much ease as +though it were a coil of rough rope on board the "Laura." +</P> + +<P> +"You say truly, eccellenza," he said, with a gleam of his white teeth +through his jet-black mustache, while his warm southern eyes flashed +fire, "there is nothing sweeter than the life of the marinaro. And +truly there are many who say to me, 'Ah, ah! Andrea! buon amico, the +time comes when you will wed, and the home where the wife and children +sit will seem a better thing to you than the caprice of the wind and +waves.' But I—see you!—I know otherwise. The woman I wed must love +the sea; she must have the fearless eyes that can look God's storms in +the face—her tender words must ring out all the more clearly for the +sound of the bubbling waves leaping against the 'Laura' when the wind +is high! And as for our children," he paused and laughed, "per la +Santissima Madonna! if the salt and iron of the ocean be not in their +blood, they will be no children of mine!" +</P> + +<P> +I smiled at his enthusiasm, and pouring out some choice Montepulciano, +bade him taste it. He did so with a keen appreciation of its flavor, +such as many a so-called connoisseur of wines does not possess. +</P> + +<P> +"To your health, eccellenza!" he said, "and may you long enjoy your +life!" +</P> + +<P> +I thanked him; but in my heart I was far from echoing the kindly wish. +</P> + +<P> +"And are you going to fulfill the prophecy of your friends, Andrea?" I +asked. "Are you about to marry?" +</P> + +<P> +He set down his glass only partly emptied, and smiled with an air of +mystery. +</P> + +<P> +"Ebbene! chi sa!" he replied, with a gay little shrug of his shoulders, +yet with a sudden tenderness in his keen eyes that did not escape me. +"There is a maiden—my mother loves her well—she is little and fair as +Carmelo Neri's Teresa—so high," and he laid his brown hand lightly on +his breast, "her head touches just here," and he laughed. "She looks as +frail as a lily, but she is hardy as a sea-gull, and no one loves the +wild waves more than she. Perhaps, in the month of the Madonna, when +the white lilies bloom—perhaps!—one can never tell—the old song may +be sung for us— +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + "Chi sa fervente amar<BR> + Solo e felice!"<BR> +</P> + +<P> +And humming the tune of the well-known love-ditty under his breath, he +raised his glass of wine to his lips and drained it off with a relish, +while his honest face beamed with gayety and pleasure. Always the same +story, I thought, moodily. Love, the tempter—Love, the +destroyer—Love, the curse! Was there NO escape possible from this +bewildering snare that thus caught and slew the souls of men? +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap33"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXXIII. +</H3> + +<P> +He soon roused himself from his pleasant reverie, and drawing his chair +closer to mine, assumed an air of mystery. +</P> + +<P> +"And for your friend who is in trouble," he said, in a confidential +tone, then paused and looked at me as though waiting permission to +proceed. +</P> + +<P> +I nodded. +</P> + +<P> +"Go on, amico. What have you arranged?" +</P> + +<P> +"Everything!" he announced, with an air of triumph. "All is smooth +sailing. At six o'clock on Friday morning the 'Rondinella,' that is the +brig I told you of, eccellenza, will weigh anchor for Civita Vecchia. +Her captain, old Antonio Bardi, will wait ten minutes or even a quarter +of an hour if necessary for the—the—" +</P> + +<P> +"Passenger," I supplemented. "Very amiable of him, but he will not need +to delay his departure for a single instant beyond the appointed hour. +Is he satisfied with the passage money?" +</P> + +<P> +"Satisfied!" and Andrea swore a good-natured oath and laughed aloud. +"By San Pietro! if he were not, he would deserve to drown like a dog on +the voyage! Though truly, it is always difficult to please him, he +being old and cross and crusty. Yes; he is one of those men who have +seen so much of life that they are tired of it. Believe it! even the +stormiest sea is a tame fish-pond to old Bardi. But he is satisfied +this time, eccellenza, and his tongue and eyes are so tied up that I +should not wonder if your friend found him to be both dumb and blind +when he steps on board." +</P> + +<P> +"That is well," I said, smiling. "I owe you many thanks, Andrea. And +yet there is one more favor I would ask of you." +</P> + +<P> +He saluted me with a light yet graceful gesture. +</P> + +<P> +"Eccellenza, anything I can do—command me." +</P> + +<P> +"It is a mere trifle," I returned. "It is merely to take a small valise +belonging to my friend, and to place it on board the 'Rondmella' under +the care of the captain. Will you do this?" +</P> + +<P> +"Most willingly. I will take it now if it so please you." +</P> + +<P> +"That is what I desire. Wait here and I will bring it to you." +</P> + +<P> +And leaving him for a minute or two, I went into my bedroom and took +from a cupboard I always kept locked a common rough leather bag, which +I had secretly packed myself, unknown to Vincenzo, with such things as +I judged to be useful and necessary. Chief among them was a bulky roll +of bank-notes. These amounted to nearly the whole of the remainder of +the money I had placed in the bank at Palermo. I had withdrawn it by +gradual degrees, leaving behind only a couple of thousand francs, for +which I had no special need. I locked and strapped the valise; there +was no name on it and it was scarcely any weight to carry. I took it to +Andrea, who swung it easily in his right hand and said, smilingly: +</P> + +<P> +"Your friend is not wealthy, eccellenza, if this is all his luggage!" +</P> + +<P> +"You are right," I answered, with a slight sigh; "he is truly very +poor—beggared of everything that should be his through the treachery +of those whom he has benefited." I paused; Andrea was listening +sympathetically. "That is why I have paid his passage-money, and have +done my best to aid him." +</P> + +<P> +"Ah! you have the good heart, eccellenza," murmured the Sicilian, +thoughtfully. "Would there were more like you! Often when fortune gives +a kick to a man, nothing will suit but that all who see him must kick +him also. And thus the povero diavolo dies of so many kicks, often! +This friend of yours is young, senza dubbio?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, quite young, not yet thirty." +</P> + +<P> +"It is as if you were a father to him!" exclaimed Andrea, +enthusiastically. "I hope he may be truly grateful to you, eccellenza." +</P> + +<P> +"I hope so too," I said, unable to resist a smile. "And now, amico, +take this," and I pressed a small sealed packet into his hand. "It is +for yourself. Do not open it till you are at home with the mother you +love so well, and the little maiden you spoke of by your side. If its +contents please you, as I believe they will, think that <I>I</I> am also +rendered happier by your happiness." +</P> + +<P> +His dark eyes sparkled with gratitude as I spoke, and setting the +valise he held down on the ground, he stretched out his hand half +timidly, half frankly. I shook it warmly and bade him farewell. +</P> + +<P> +"Per Bacco!" he said, with a sort of shamefaced eagerness, "the very +devil must have caught my tongue in his fingers! There is something I +ought to say to you, eccellenza, but for my life I cannot find the +right words. I must thank you better when I see you next." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," I answered, dreamily and somewhat wearily, "when you see me +next, Andrea, you shall thank me if you will; but believe me, I need no +thanks." +</P> + +<P> +And thus we parted, never to meet again—he to the strong glad life +that is born of the wind and sea, and I to—. But let me not +anticipate. Step by step through the labyrinths of memory let me go +over the old ground watered with blood and tears, not missing one sharp +stone of detail on the drear pathway leading to the bitter end. +</P> + +<P> +That same evening I had an interview with Vincenzo. He was melancholy +and taciturn—a mood which was the result of an announcement I had +previously made to him—namely, that his services would not be required +during my wedding-trip. He had hoped to accompany me and to occupy the +position of courier, valet, major-domo, and generally confidential +attendant—a hope which had partially soothed the vexation he had +evidently felt at the notion of my marrying at all. +</P> + +<P> +His plans were now frustrated, and if ever the good-natured fellow +could be ill-tempered, he was assuredly so on this occasion. He stood +before me with his usual respectful air, but he avoided my glance, and +kept his eyes studiously fixed on the pattern of the carpet. I +addressed him with an air of gayety. +</P> + +<P> +"Ebbene, Vincenzo! Joy comes at last, you see, even to me! To-morrow I +shall wed the Countess Romani—the loveliest and perhaps the richest +woman in Naples!" +</P> + +<P> +"I know it, eccellenza." +</P> + +<P> +This with the same obstinately fixed countenance and downward look. +</P> + +<P> +"You are not very pleased, I think, at the prospect of my happiness?" I +asked, banteringly. +</P> + +<P> +He glanced up for an instant, then as quickly down again. +</P> + +<P> +"If one could be sure that the illustrissimo eccellenza was indeed +happy, that would be a good thing," he answered, dubiously. +</P> + +<P> +"And are you not sure?" +</P> + +<P> +He paused, then replied firmly: +</P> + +<P> +"No; the eccellenza does not look happy. No, no, davvero! He has the +air of being sorrowful and ill, both together." +</P> + +<P> +I shrugged my shoulders indifferently. +</P> + +<P> +"You mistake me, Vincenzo. I am well—very well—and happy! Gran Dio! +who could be happier? But what of my health or happiness?—they are +nothing to me, and should be less to you. Listen; I have something I +wish you to do for me." +</P> + +<P> +He gave me a sidelong and half-expectant glance. I went on: +</P> + +<P> +"To-morrow evening I want you to go to Avellino." +</P> + +<P> +He was utterly astonished. +</P> + +<P> +"To Avellino!" he murmured under his breath, "to Avellino!" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, to Avellino," I repeated, somewhat impatiently. "Is there +anything so surprising in that? You will take a letter from me to the +Signora Monti. Look you, Vincenzo, you have been faithful and obedient +so far, I expect implicit fidelity and obedience still. You will not be +needed here to-morrow after the marriage ball has once begun; you can +take the nine o'clock train to Avellino, and—understand me—you will +remain there till you receive further news from me. You will not have +to wait long, and in the mean time," here I smiled, "you can make love +to Lilla." +</P> + +<P> +Vincenzo did not return the smile. +</P> + +<P> +"But—but," he stammered, sorely perplexed—"if I go to Avellino I +cannot wait upon the eccellenza. There is the portmanteau to pack—and +who will see to the luggage when you leave on Friday morning for Rome? +And—and—I had thought to see you to the station—" He stopped, his +vexation was too great to allow him to proceed. +</P> + +<P> +I laughed gently. +</P> + +<P> +"How many more trifles can you think of, my friend, in opposition to my +wishes? As for the portmanteau, you can pack it this very day if you so +please—then it will be in readiness. The rest of your duties can for +once be performed by others. It is not only important, but imperative +that you should go to Avellino on my errand. I want you to take this +with you," and I tapped a small square iron box, heavily made and +strongly padlocked, which stood an the table near me. +</P> + +<P> +He glanced at the box, but still hesitated, and the gloom on his +countenance deepened. I grew a little annoyed. +</P> + +<P> +"What is the matter with you?" I said at last with some sternness. "You +have something on your mind—speak out!" +</P> + +<P> +The fear of my wrath startled him. He looked up with a bewildered pain +in his eyes, and spoke, his mellow Tuscan voice vibrating with his own +eloquent entreaty. +</P> + +<P> +"Eccellenza!" he exclaimed, eagerly, "you must forgive me—yes, forgive +your poor servant who seems too bold, and who yet is true to you—yes, +indeed, so true!—and who would go with you to death if there were +need! I am not blind, I can see your sufferings, for you do suffer, +'lustrissimo, though you hide it well. Often have I watched you when +you have not known it. I feel that you have what we call a wound in the +heart, bleeding, bleeding always. Such a thing means death often, as +much as a straight shot in battle. Let me watch over you, eccellenza; +let me stay with you! I have learned to love you! Ah, mio signor," and +he drew nearer and caught my hand timidly, "you do not know—how should +you?—the look that is in your face sometimes, the look of one who is +stunned by a hard blow. I have said to myself 'That look will kill me +if I see it often.' And your love for this great lady, whom you will +wed to-morrow, has not lightened your soul as love should lighten it. +No! you are even sadder than before, and the look I speak of comes ever +again and again. Yes, I have watched you, and lately I have seen you +writing, writing far into the night, when you should have slept. Ah, +signor! you are angry, and I know I should not have spoken; but tell +me, how can I look at Lilla and be happy when I feel that you are alone +and sad?" +</P> + +<P> +I stopped the flood of his eloquence by a mute gesture and withdrew my +hand from his clasp. +</P> + +<P> +"I am not angry," I said, with quiet steadiness, and yet with something +of coldness, though my whole nature, always highly sensitive, was +deeply stirred by the rapid, unstudied expressions of affection that +melted so warmly from his lips in the liquid music of the mellow Tuscan +tongue. "No, I am not angry, but I am sorry to have been the object of +so much solicitude on your part. Your pity is misplaced, Vincenzo, it +is indeed! Pity an emperor clad in purples and seated on a throne of +pure gold, but do not pity ME! I tell you that, to-morrow, yes, +to-morrow, I shall obtain all that I have ever sought—my greatest +desire will be fulfilled. Believe it. No man has ever been so +thoroughly satiated with—satisfaction—as I shall be!" +</P> + +<P> +Then seeing him look still sad and incredulous, I clapped my hand on +his shoulder and smiled. +</P> + +<P> +"Come, come, amico, wear a merrier face for my bridal day, or you will +not deserve to wed Lilla. I thank you from my heart," and I spoke more +gravely, "for your well meant care and kindness, but I assure you there +is nothing wrong with me. I am well—perfectly well—and happy. It is +understood that you go to Avellino to-morrow evening?" +</P> + +<P> +Vincenzo sighed, but was passive. +</P> + +<P> +"It must be as the eccellenza pleases," he murmured, resignedly. +</P> + +<P> +"That is well," I answered, good-humoredly; "and as you know my +pleasure, take care that nothing interferes with your departure. +And—one word more—you must cease to watch me. Plainly speaking, I do +not choose to be under your surveillance. Nay—I am not offended, far +from it, fidelity and devotion are excellent virtues, but in the +present case I prefer obedience—strict, implicit obedience. Whatever I +may do, whether I sleep or wake, walk or sit still—attend to YOUR +duties and pay no heed to MY actions. So will you best serve me—you +understand?" +</P> + +<P> +"Si, signor!" and the poor fellow sighed again, and reddened with his +own inward confusion. "You will pardon me, eccellenza, for my freedom +of speech? I feel I have done wrong—" +</P> + +<P> +"I pardon you for what in this world is never pardoned—excess of +love," I answered, gently. "Knowing you love me, I ask you to obey me +in my present wishes, and thus we shall always be friends." +</P> + +<P> +His face brightened at these last words, and his thoughts turned in a +new direction. He glanced at the iron box I had before pointed out to +him. +</P> + +<P> +"That is to go to Avellino, eccellenza?" he asked, with more alacrity +than he had yet shown. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," I answered. "You will place it in the hands of the good Signora +Monti, for whom I have a great respect. She will take care of it +till—I return." +</P> + +<P> +"Your commands shall be obeyed, signor," he said, rapidly, as though +eager to atone for his past hesitation. "After all," and he smiled, "it +will be pleasant to see Lilla; she will be interested, too, to hear the +account of the eccellenza's marriage." +</P> + +<P> +And somewhat consoled by the prospect of the entertainment his +unlooked-for visit would give to the charming little maiden of his +choice, he left me, and shortly afterward I heard him humming a popular +love-song softly under his breath, while he busied himself in packing +my portmanteau for the honeymoon trip—a portmanteau destined never to +be used or opened by its owner. +</P> + +<P> +That night, contrary to my usual habit, I lingered long over my dinner; +at its close I poured out a full glass of fine Lacrima Cristi, and +secretly mixing with it a dose of a tasteless but powerful opiate, I +called my valet and bade him drink it and wish me joy. He did so +readily, draining the contents to the last drop. It was a tempestuous +night; there was a high wind, broken through by heavy sweeping gusts of +rain. Vincenzo cleared the dinner-table, yawning visibly as he did so, +then taking my out-door paletot on his arm, he went to his bedroom, a +small one adjoining mine, for the purpose of brushing it, according to +his customary method. I opened a book, and pretending to be absorbed in +its contents, I waited patiently for about half an hour. +</P> + +<P> +At the expiration of that time I stole softly to his door and looked +in. It was as I had expected; overcome by the sudden and heavy action +of the opiate, he had thrown himself on his bed, and was slumbering +profoundly, the unbrushed overcoat by his side. Poor fellow! I smiled +as I watched him; the faithful dog was chained, and could not follow my +steps for that night at least. +</P> + +<P> +I left him thus, and wrapping myself in a thick Almaviva that muffled +me almost to the eyes, I hurried out, fortunately meeting no one on my +way—out into the storm and darkness, toward the Campo Santo, the abode +of the all-wise though speechless dead. I had work to do there—work +that must be done. I knew that if I had not taken the precaution of +drugging my too devoted servitor, he might, despite his protestations, +have been tempted to track me whither I went. As it was, I felt myself +safe, for four hours must pass, I knew, before Vincenzo could awake +from his lethargy. And I was absent for some time. +</P> + +<P> +Though I performed my task as quickly as might be, it took me longer +than I thought, and filled me with more loathing and reluctance than I +had deemed possible. It was a grewsome, ghastly piece of work—a work +of preparation—and when I had finished it entirely to my satisfaction, +I felt as though the bony fingers of death itself had been plunged into +my very marrow. I shivered with cold, my limbs would scarce bear me +upright, and my teeth chattered as though I were seized by strong ague. +But the fixity of my purpose strengthened me till all was done—till +the stage was set for the last scene of the tragedy. Or comedy? What +you will! I know that in the world nowadays you make a husband's +dishonor more of a whispered jest than anything else—you and your +heavy machinery of the law. But to me—I am so strangely +constituted—dishonor is a bitterer evil than death. If all those who +are deceived and betrayed felt thus, then justice would need to become +more just. It is fortunate—for the lawyers—that we are not all +honorable men! +</P> + +<P> +When I returned from my dreary walk in the driving storm I found +Vincenzo still fast asleep. I was glad of this, for had he seen me in +the plight I was, he would have had good reason to be alarmed +concerning both my physical and mental condition. Perceiving myself in +the glass, I recoiled as from an image of horror. I saw a man with +haunted, hungry eyes gleaming out from under a mass of disordered white +hair, his pale, haggard face set and stern as the face of a merciless +inquisitor of old Spain, his dark cloak dripping with glittering +raindrops, his hands and nails stained as though he had dug them into +the black earth, his boots heavy with mire and clay, his whole aspect +that of one who had been engaged in some abhorrent deed, too repulsive +to be named. I stared at my own reflection thus and shuddered; then I +laughed softly with a sort of fierce enjoyment. Quickly I threw off all +my soiled habiliments, and locked them out of sight, and arraying +myself in dressing-gown and slippers, I glanced at the time. It was +half-past one—already the morning of my bridal. I had been absent +three hours and a half. I went into my salon and remained there +writing. A few minutes after two o'clock had struck the door opened +noiselessly, and Vincenzo, looking still very sleepy, appeared with an +expression of inquiring anxiety. He smiled drowsily, and seemed +relieved to see me sitting quietly in my accustomed place at the +writing-table. I surveyed him with an air of affected surprise. +</P> + +<P> +"Ebbene, Vincenzo! What has become of you all this while?" +</P> + +<P> +"Eccellenza," he stammered, "it was the Lacrima; I am not used to wine! +I have been asleep." +</P> + +<P> +I laughed, pretended to stifle a yawn on my own account, and rose from +my easy-chair. +</P> + +<P> +"Veramente," I said, lightly, "so have I, very nearly! And if I would +appear as a gay bridegroom, it is time I went to bed. Buona notte." +</P> + +<P> +"Buona notte, signor." +</P> + +<P> +And we severally retired to rest, he satisfied that I had been in my +own room all the evening, and I, thinking with a savage joy at my heart +of what I had prepared out there in the darkness, with no witnesses of +my work save the whirling wind and rain. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap34"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXXIV. +</H3> + +<P> +My marriage morning dawned bright and clear, though the high wind of +the past night still prevailed and sent the white clouds scudding +rapidly, like ships running a race, across the blue fairness of the +sky. The air was strong, fresh, and exhilarating, and the crowds that +swarmed into the Piazza del Popolo, and the Toledo, eager to begin the +riot and fun of Giovedi Grasso, were one and all in the highest good +humor. As the hours advanced, many little knots of people hurried +toward the cathedral, anxious, if possible, to secure places in or near +the Chapel of San Gennaro, in order to see to advantage the brilliant +costumes of the few distinguished persons who had been invited to +witness my wedding. The ceremony was fixed to take place at eleven, and +at a little before half past ten I entered my carriage, in company with +the Duke di Marina as best man, and drove to the scene of action. Clad +in garments of admirable cut and fit, with well-brushed hair and beard, +and wearing a demeanor of skillfully mingled gravity and gayety, I bore +but little resemblance to the haggard, ferocious creature who had faced +me in the mirror a few hours previously. +</P> + +<P> +A strange and secret mirth too possessed me, a sort of half-frenzied +merriment that threatened every now and then to break through the mask +of dignified composure it was necessary for me to wear. There were +moments when I could have laughed, shrieked, and sung with the fury of +a drunken madman. As it was, I talked incessantly; my conversation was +flavored with bitter wit and pungent sarcasm, and once or twice my +friend the duke surveyed me with an air of wondering inquiry, as though +he thought my manner forced or unnatural. My coachman was compelled to +drive rather slowly, owing to the pressing throngs that swarmed at +every corner and through every thoroughfare, while the yells of the +masqueraders, the gambols of street clowns, the firing of toy guns, and +the sharp explosion of colored bladders, that were swung to and fro and +tossed in the air by the merry populace, startled my spirited horses +frequently, and caused them to leap and prance to a somewhat dangerous +extent, thus attracting more than the customary attention to my +equipage. As it drew up at last at the door of the chapel, I was +surprised to see what a number of spectators had collected there. There +was a positive crowd of loungers, beggars, children, and middle-class +persons of all sorts, who beheld my arrival with the utmost interest +and excitement. +</P> + +<P> +In accordance with my instructions a rich crimson carpet had been laid +down from the very edge of the pavement right into the church as far as +the altar; a silken awning had also been erected, under which bloomed a +miniature avenue of palms and tropical flowers. All eyes were turned +upon me curiously as I stepped from my carriage and entered the chapel, +side by side with the duke, and murmurs of my vast wealth and +generosity were audibly whispered as I passed along. One old crone, +hideously ugly, but with large, dark piercing eyes, the fading lamps of +a lost beauty, chuckled and mumbled as she craned her skinny throat +forward to observe me more closely. "Ay, ay! The saints know he need be +rich and generous—pover'uomo to fill HER mouth. A little red cruel +mouth always open, that swallows money like macaroni, and laughs at the +suffering poor! Ah! that is bad, bad! He need be rich to satisfy HER!" +</P> + +<P> +The Duke di Marina caught these words and glanced quickly at me, but I +affected not to have heard. Inside the chapel there were a great number +of people, but my own invited guests, not numbering more than twenty or +thirty, were seated in the space apportioned to them near the altar, +which was divided from the mere sight-seers by means of a silken rope +that crossed the aisle. I exchanged greetings with most of these +persons, and in return received their congratulations; then I walked +with a firm deliberate step up to the high altar and there waited. The +magnificent paintings on the wall round me seemed endowed with +mysterious life—the grand heads of saints and martyrs were turned upon +me as though they demanded—"MUST thou do this thing? Hast thou no +forgiveness?" +</P> + +<P> +And ever my stern answer, "Nay; if hereafter I am tortured in eternal +flame for all ages, yet now—now while I live, I will be avenged!" +</P> + +<P> +A bleeding Christ suspended on His cross gazed at me reproachfully with +long-enduring eyes of dreadful anguish—eyes that seemed to say, "Oh, +erring man, that tormentest thyself with passing passions, shall not +thine own end approach speedily?—and what comfort wilt thou have in +thy last hour?" +</P> + +<P> +And inwardly I answered, "None! No shred of consolation can ever again +be mine—no joy, save fulfilled revenge! And this I will possess though +the heavens should crack and the earth split asunder! For once a +woman's treachery shall meet with punishment—for once such strange +uncommon justice shall be done!" +</P> + +<P> +And my spirit wrapped itself again in somber meditative silence. The +sunlight fell gloriously through the stained windows—blue, gold, +crimson, and violet shafts of dazzling radiance glittered in lustrous +flickering patterns on the snowy whiteness of the marble altar, and +slowly, softly, majestically, as though an angel stepped forward, the +sound of music stole on the incense-laden air. The unseen organist +played a sublime voluntary of Palestrina's, and the round harmonious +notes came falling gently on one another like drops from a fountain +trickling on flowers. +</P> + +<P> +I thought of my last wedding-day, when I had stood in this very place, +full of hope, intoxicated with love and joy, when Guido Ferrari had +been by my side, and had drunk in for the first time the poisoned +draught of temptation from the loveliness of my wife's face and form; +when I, poor fool! would us soon have thought that God could lie, as +that either of these whom I adored could play me false. I drew the +wedding-ring from my pocket and looked at it—it was sparklingly bright +and appeared new. Yet it was old—it was the very same ring I had drawn +off my wife's finger the day before; it had only been burnished afresh +by a skilled jeweler, and showed no more marks of wear than if it had +been bought that morning. +</P> + +<P> +The great bell of the cathedral boomed out eleven, and as the last +stroke swung from the tower, the chapel doors were flung more widely +open: then came the gentle rustle of trailing robes, and turning, I +beheld my wife. She approached, leaning lightly on the arm of the old +Chevalier Mancini, who, true to his creeds of gallantry, had accepted +with alacrity the post of paternal protector to the bride on this +occasion; and I could not well wonder at the universal admiration that +broke in suppressed murmurs from all assembled, as this most fair +masterpiece of the devil's creation paced slowly and gracefully up the +aisle. She wore a dress of clinging white velvet made with the greatest +simplicity—a lace veil, priceless in value and fine as gossamer, +draped her from head to foot—the jewels I had given her flashed about +her like scintillating points of light, in her hair, at her waist, on +her breast and uncovered arms. +</P> + +<P> +Being as she deemed herself, a widow, she had no bride-maids; her train +was held up by a handsome boy clad in the purple and gold costume of a +sixteenth century page—he was the youngest son of the Duke di Marina. +Two tiny girls of five and six years of age went before, strewing white +roses and lilies, and stepping daintily backward as though in +attendance on a queen; they looked like two fairies who had slipped out +of a midnight dream, in their little loose gowns of gold-colored plush, +with wreaths of meadow daffodils on their tumbled curly hair. They had +been well trained by Nina herself, for on arrival at the altar they +stood demurely, one on each side of her, the pretty page occupying his +place behind, and still holding up the end of the velvet train with a +charming air of hauteur and self-complacency. +</P> + +<P> +The whole cortege was a picture in its way, as Nina had meant it to be: +she was fond of artistic effects. She smiled languishingly upon me as +she reached the altar, and sunk on her knees beside me in prayer. The +music swelled forth with redoubled grandeur, the priests and acolytes +appeared, the marriage service commenced. As I placed the ring on the +book I glanced furtively at the bride; her fair head was bent +demurely—she seemed absorbed in holy meditations. The priest having +performed the ceremony of sprinkling it with holy water, I took it +back, and set it for the second time on my wife's soft white little +hand—set it in accordance with the Catholic ritual, first on the +thumb, then on the second finger, then on the third, and lastly on the +fourth, where I left it in its old place, wondering as I did so, and +murmured, "In Nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti, Amen!" whether +she recognized it as the one she had worn so long! But it was evident +she did not; her calm was unbroken by even so much as a start or +tremor; she had the self-possession of a perfectly satisfied, +beautiful, vain, and utterly heartless woman. +</P> + +<P> +The actual ceremony of marriage was soon over; then followed the Mass, +in which we, the newly-wedded pair, were compelled, in submission to +the rule of the Church, to receive the Sacrament. I shuddered as the +venerable priest gave me the Sacred Host. What had I to do with the +inward purity and peace this memento of Christ is supposed to leave in +our souls? Methought the Crucified Image in the chapel regarded me +afresh with those pained eyes, and said, "Even so dost thou seal thine +own damnation!" Yet SHE, the true murderess, the arch liar, received +the Sacrament with the face of a rapt angel—the very priest himself +seemed touched by those upraised, candid, glorious eyes, the sweet lips +so reverently parted, the absolute, reliable peace that rested on that +white brow, like an aureole round the head of a saint! +</P> + +<P> +"If <I>I</I> am damned, then is SHE thrice damned!" I said to myself, +recklessly. "I dare say hell is wide enough for us to live apart when +we get there." +</P> + +<P> +Thus I consoled my conscience, and turned resolutely away from the +painted appealing faces on the wall—the faces that in their various +expressions of sorrow, resignation, pain, and death seemed now to be +all pervaded by another look, that of astonishment—astonishment, so I +fancied, that such a man as I, and such a woman as she, should be found +in the width of the whole world, and should be permitted to kneel at +God's altar without being struck dead for their blasphemy! +</P> + +<P> +Ah, good saints, well may you be astonished! Had you lived in our day +you must have endured worse martyrdoms than the boiling oil or the +wrenching rack! What you suffered was the mere physical pain of torn +muscles and scorching flesh, pain that at its utmost could not last +long; but your souls were clothed with majesty and power, and were +glorious in the light of love, faith, hope, and charity with all men. +WE have reversed the position YOU occupied! We have partly learned, and +are still learning, how to take care of our dearly beloved bodies, how +to nourish and clothe them and guard them from cold and disease; but +our souls, good saints, the souls that with you were everything—THESE +we smirch, burn, and rack, torture and destroy—these we stamp upon +till we crush out God's image therefrom—these we spit and jeer at, +crucify and drown! THERE is the difference between you, the strong and +wise of a fruitful olden time, and we, the miserable, puny weaklings of +a sterile modern age. +</P> + +<P> +Had you, sweet St. Dorothy, or fair child-saint Agnes, lived in this +day, you would have felt something sharper than the executioner's +sword; for being pure, you would have been dubbed the worst of +women—being prayerful, you would have been called hypocrites—being +faithful, you would have been suspected of all vileness—being loving, +you would have been mocked at more bitterly than the soldiers of +Pontius Pilate mocked Christ; but you would have been FREE—free to +indulge your own opinions, for ours is the age of liberty. Yet how much +better for you to have died than have lived till now! +</P> + +<P> +Absorbed in strange, half-morose, half-speculative fancies, I scarcely +heard the close of the solemn service. I was roused by a delicate touch +from my wife, and I woke, as it were, with a start, to hear the +sonorous, crashing chords of the wedding-march in "Lohengrin" +thundering through the air. All was over: my wife was MINE indeed—mine +most thoroughly—mine by the exceptionally close-tied knot of a double +marriage—mine to do as I would with "TILL DEATH SHOULD US PART." How +long, I gravely mused, how long before death could come to do us this +great service? And straightway I began counting, counting certain +spaces of time that must elapse before—I was still absorbed in this +mental arithmetic, even while I mechanically offered my arm to my wife +as we entered the vestry to sign our names in the marriage register. So +occupied was I in my calculations that I nearly caught myself murmuring +certain numbers aloud. I checked this, and recalling my thoughts by a +strong effort, I strove to appear interested and delighted, as I walked +down the aisle with my beautiful bride, through the ranks of admiring +and eager spectators. +</P> + +<P> +On reaching the outer doors of the chapel several flower-girls emptied +their full and fragrant baskets at our feet; and in return, I bade one +of my servants distribute a bag of coins I had brought for the purpose, +knowing from former experience that it would be needed. To tread across +such a heap of flowers required some care, many of the blossoms +clinging to Nina's velvet train—we therefore moved forward slowly. +</P> + +<P> +Just as we had almost reached the carriage, a young girl, with large +laughing eyes set like flashing jewels in her soft oval face, threw +down in my path a cluster of red roses. A sudden fury of impotent +passion possessed me, and I crushed my heel instantly and savagely upon +the crimson blossoms, stamping upon them again and again so violently +that my wife raised her delicate eyebrows in amazement, and the +pressing people who stood round us, shrugged their shoulders, and gazed +at one another with looks of utter bewilderment—while the girl who had +thrown them shrunk back in terror, her face paling as she murmured, +"Santissima Madonna! mi fa paura!" I bit my lip with vexation, inwardly +cursing the weakness of my own behavior. I laughed lightly in answer to +Nina's unspoken, half-alarmed inquiry. +</P> + +<P> +"It is nothing—a mere fancy of mine. I hate red roses! They look to me +like human blood in flower!" +</P> + +<P> +She shuddered slightly. +</P> + +<P> +"What a horrible idea! How can you think of such a thing?" +</P> + +<P> +I made no response, but assisted her into the carriage with elaborate +care and courtesy; then entering it myself, we drove together back to +the hotel, where the wedding breakfast awaited us. +</P> + +<P> +This is always a feast of general uneasiness and embarrassment +everywhere, even in the sunny, pleasure-loving south; every one is glad +when it is over, and when the flowery, unmeaning speeches and +exaggerated compliments are brought to a fitting and happy conclusion. +Among my assembled guests, all of whom belonged to the best and most +distinguished families in Naples, there was a pervading atmosphere of +undoubted chilliness: the women were dull, being rendered jealous of +the bride's beauty and the richness of her white velvets and jewels; +the men were constrained, and could scarcely force themselves into even +the appearance of cordiality—they evidently thought that, with such +wealth as mine, I would have done much better to remain a bachelor. In +truth, Italians, and especially Neapolitans, are by no means +enthusiastic concerning the supposititious joys of marriage. They are +apt to shake their heads, and to look upon it as a misfortune rather +than a blessing. "L'altare e la tomba dell' amore," is a very common +saying with us, and very commonly believed. +</P> + +<P> +It was a relief to us all when we rose from the splendidly appointed +table, and separated for a few hours. We were to meet again at the +ball, which was fixed to commence at nine o'clock in the evening. The +cream of the event was to be tasted THEN—the final toasting of the +bride was to take place THEN—THEN there would be music, mirth and +dancing, and all the splendor of almost royal revelry. I escorted my +wife with formal courtesy to a splendid apartment which had been +prepared for her, for she had, as she told me, many things to do—as, +for instance, to take off her bridal robes, to study every detail of +her wondrous ball costume for the night, and to superintend her maid in +the packing of her trunks for the next day's journey. THE NEXT DAY! I +smiled grimly—I wondered how she would enjoy her trip! Then I kissed +her hand with the most profound respect and left her to repose—to +refresh and prepare herself for the brilliant festivity of the evening. +</P> + +<P> +Our marriage customs are not as coarse as those of some countries; a +bridegroom in Italy thinks it scarcely decent to persecute his bride +with either his presence or his caresses as soon as the Church has made +her his. On the contrary, if ardent, he restrains his ardor—he +forbears to intrude, he strives to keep up the illusion, the +rose-colored light, or rather mist, of love as long as possible, and he +has a wise, instinctive dread of becoming overfamiliar; well knowing +that nothing kills romance so swiftly and surely as the bare blunt +prose of close and constant proximity. And I, like other gentlemen of +my rank and class, gave my twice-wedded wife her liberty—the last +hours of liberty she would ever know. I left her to busy herself with +the trifles she best loved—trifles of dress and personal adornment, +for which many women barter away their soul's peace and honor, and +divest themselves of the last shred of right and honest principle +merely to outshine others of their own sex, and sow broadcast +heart-burnings, petty envies, mean hatreds and contemptible spites, +where, if they did but choose, there might be a widely different +harvest. +</P> + +<P> +It is easy to understand the feelings of Marie Stuart when she arrayed +herself in her best garments for her execution: it was simply the +heroism of supreme vanity, the desire to fascinate if possible the very +headsman. One can understand any beautiful woman being as brave as she. +Harder than death itself would it have seemed to her had she been +compelled to appear on the scaffold looking hideous. She was resolved +to make the most of her charms so long as life lasted. I thought of +that sweet-lipped, luscious-smiling queen as I parted from my wife for +a few brief hours: royal and deeply injured lady though she was, she +merited her fate, for she was treacherous—there can be no doubt of +that. Yet most people reading her her story pity her—I know not why. +It is strange that so much of the world's sympathy is wasted on false +women! +</P> + +<P> +I strolled into one of the broad loggie of the hotel, from whence I +could see a portion of the Piazza del Popolo, and lighting a cigar, I +leisurely watched the frolics of the crowd. The customary fooling +proper to the day was going on, and no detail of it seemed to pall on +the good-natured, easily amused folks who must have seen it all so +often before. Much laughter was being excited by the remarks of a +vender of quack medicines, who was talking with extreme volubility to a +number of gayly dressed girls and fishermen. I could not distinguish +his words, but I judged he was selling the "elixir of love," from his +absurd amatory gestures—an elixir compounded, no doubt, of a little +harmless eau sucre. +</P> + +<P> +Flags tossed on the breeze, trumpets brayed, drums beat; improvisatores +twanged their guitars and mandolins loudly to attract attention, and +failing in their efforts, swore at each other with the utmost joviality +and heartiness; flower-girls and lemonade-sellers made the air ring +with their conflicting cries: now and then a shower of chalky confetti +flew out from adjacent windows, dusting with white powder the coats of +the passers-by; clusters of flowers tied with favors of gay-colored +ribbon were lavishly flung at the feet of bright-eyed peasant girls, +who rejected or accepted them at pleasure, with light words of badinage +or playful repartee; clowns danced and tumbled, dogs barked, church +bells clanged, and through all the waving width of color and movement +crept the miserable, shrinking forms of diseased and loathly beggars +whining for a soldo, and clad in rags that barely covered their +halting, withered limbs. +</P> + +<P> +It was a scene to bewilder the brain and dazzle the eyes, and I was +just turning away from it out of sheer fatigue, when a sudden cessation +of movement in the swaying, whirling crowd, and a slight hush, caused +me to look out once more. I perceived the cause of the momentary +stillness—a funeral cortege appeared, moving at a slow and solemn +pace; as it passed across the square, heads were uncovered, and women +crossed themselves devoutly. Like a black shadowy snake it coiled +through the mass of shifting color and brilliance—another moment, and +it was gone. The depressing effect of its appearance was soon +effaced—the merry crowds resumed their thousand and one freaks of +folly, their shrieking, laughing and dancing, and all was as before. +Why not? +</P> + +<P> +The dead are soon forgotten; none knew that better than I! Leaning my +arms lazily on the edge of the balcony, I finished smoking my cigar. +That glimpse of death in the midst of life had filled me with a certain +satisfaction. Strangely enough, my thoughts began to busy themselves +with the old modes of torture that used to be legal, and that, after +all, were not so unjust when practiced upon persons professedly vile. +For instance, the iron coffin of Lissa—that ingeniously contrived box +in which the criminal was bound fast hand and foot, and then was forced +to watch the huge lid descending slowly, slowly, slowly, half an inch +at a time, till at last its ponderous weight crushed into a flat and +mangled mass the writhing wretch within, who had for long agonized +hours watched death steadily approaching. Suppose that <I>I</I> had such a +coffin now! I stopped my train of reflection with a slight shudder. No, +no; she whom I sought to punish was so lovely, such a softly colored, +witching, gracious body, though tenanted by a wicked soul—she should +keep her beauty! I would not destroy that—I would be satisfied with my +plan as already devised. +</P> + +<P> +I threw away the end of my smoked-out cigar and entered my own rooms. +Calling Vincenzo, who was now resigned and even eager to go to +Avellino, I gave him his final instructions, and placed in his charge +the iron cash-box, which, unknown to him, contained 12,000 francs in +notes and gold. This was the last good action I could do: it was a +sufficient sum to set him up as a well-to-do farmer and fruit-grower in +Avellino with Lilla and her little dowry combined. He also carried a +sealed letter to Signora Monti, which I told him she was not to open +till a week had elapsed; this letter explained the contents of the box +and my wishes concerning it; it also asked the good woman to send to +the Villa Romani for Assunta and her helpless charge, poor old +paralyzed Giacomo, and to tend the latter as well as she could till his +death, which I knew could not be far off. +</P> + +<P> +I had thought of everything as far as possible, and I could already +foresee what a happy, peaceful home there would be in the little +mountain town guarded by the Monte Vergine. Lilla and Vincenzo would +wed, I knew; Signora Monti and Assunta would console each other with +their past memories and in the tending of Lilla's children; for some +little time, perhaps, they would talk of me and wonder sorrowfully +where I had gone; then gradually they would forget me, even as I +desired to be forgotten. +</P> + +<P> +Yes; I had done all I could for those who had never wronged me. I had +acquitted myself of my debt to Vincenzo for his affection and fidelity; +the rest of my way was clear. I had no more to do save the ONE THING, +the one deed which had clamored so long for accomplishment. Revenge, +like a beckoning ghost, had led me on step by step for many weary days +and months, which to me had seemed cycles of suffering; but now it +paused—it faced me—and turning its blood-red eyes upon my soul said, +"Strike!" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap35"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXXV. +</H3> + +<P> +The ball opened brilliantly. The rooms were magnificently decorated, +and the soft luster of a thousand lamps shone on a scene of splendor +almost befitting the court of a king. Some of the stateliest nobles in +all Italy were present, their breasts glittering with jeweled orders +and ribbons of honor; some of the loveliest women to be seen anywhere +in the world flitted across the polished floors, like poets' dreams of +the gliding sylphs that haunt rivers and fountains by moonlight. +</P> + +<P> +But fairest where all were fair, peerless in the exuberance of her +triumphant vanity, and in the absolute faultlessness of her delicate +charms, was my wife—the bride of the day, the heroine of the night. +Never had she looked so surpassingly beautiful, and I, even I, felt my +pulse beat quicker, and the blood course more hotly through my veins, +as I beheld her, radiant, victorious, and smiling—a veritable queen of +the fairies, as dainty as a drop of dew, as piercing to the eye as a +flash of light. Her dress was some wonderful mingling of misty lace, +with the sheen of satin and glimmering showers of pearl; diamonds +glittered on her bodice like sunlight on white foam; the brigand's +jewels flashed gloriously on her round white throat and in her tiny +shell-like ears, while the masses of her gold hair were coiled to the +top of her small head and there caught by a priceless circlet of +rose-brilliants—brilliants that I well remembered—they had belonged +to my mother. Yet more lustrous than the light of the gems she wore was +the deep, ardent glory of her eyes, dark as night and luminous as +stars; more delicate than the filmy robes that draped her was the pure, +pearl-like whiteness of her neck, which was just sufficiently displayed +to be graceful without suggesting immodesty. +</P> + +<P> +For Italian women do not uncover their bosoms for the casual inspection +of strangers, as is the custom of their English and German sisters; +they know well enough that any lady venturing to wear a decollete dress +would find it impossible to obtain admittance to a court ball at the +Palazzo Quirinale. She would be looked upon as one of a questionable +class, and no matter how high her rank and station, would run the risk +of ejection from the doors, as on one occasion did unfortunately happen +to an English peeress, who, ignorant of Italian customs, went to an +evening reception in Rome arrayed in a very low bodice with straps +instead of sleeves. Her remonstrances were vain; she was politely but +firmly refused admittance, though told she might gain her point by +changing her costume, which I believe she wisely did. +</P> + +<P> +Some of the grandes dames present at the ball that night wore dresses +the like of which are seldom or never seen out of Italy—robes sown +with jewels, and thick with wondrous embroidery, such as have been +handed down from generation to generation through hundreds of years. As +an example of this, the Duchess of Marina's cloth of gold train, +stitched with small rubies and seed-pearls, had formerly belonged to +the family of Lorenzo de Medici. Such garments as these, when they are +part of the property of a great house, are worn only on particular +occasions, perhaps once in a year; and then they are laid carefully by +and sedulously protected from dust and moths and damp, receiving as +much attention as the priceless pictures and books of a famous +historical mansion. Nothing ever designed by any great modern tailor or +milliner can hope to compete with the magnificent workmanship and +durable material of the festa dresses that are locked preciously away +in the old oaken coffers of the greatest Italian families—dresses that +are beyond valuation, because of the romances and tragedies attached to +them, and which, when worn, make all the costliest fripperies of to-day +look flimsy and paltry beside them, like the attempts of a servant to +dress as tastefully as her mistress. +</P> + +<P> +Such glitter of gold and silver, such scintillations from the burning +eyes of jewels, such cloud-like wreaths of floating laces, such subtle +odors of rare and exquisite perfume, all things that most keenly prick +and stimulate the senses were round me in fullest force this +night—this one dazzling, supreme and terrible night, that was destined +to burn into my brain like a seal of scorching fire. Yes; till I die, +that night will remain with me as though it were a breathing, sentient +thing; and after death, who knows whether it may not uplift itself in +some tangible, awful shape, and confront me with its flashing +mock-luster, and the black heart of its true meaning in its menacing +eyes, to take its drear place by the side of my abandoned soul through +all eternity! I remember now how I shivered and started out of the +bitter reverie into which I had fallen at the sound of my wife's low, +laughing voice. +</P> + +<P> +"You must dance, Cesare," she said, with a mischievous smile. "You are +forgetting your duties. You should open the ball with me!" +</P> + +<P> +I rose at once mechanically. +</P> + +<P> +"What dance is it?" I asked, forcing a smile. "I fear you will find me +but a clumsy partner." +</P> + +<P> +She pouted. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, surely not! You are not going to disgrace me—you really must try +and dance properly just this once. It will look so stupid if you make +any mistake. The band was going to play a quadrille; I would not have +it, and told them to strike up the Hungarian waltz instead. But I +assure you I shall never forgive you if you waltz badly—nothing looks +so awkward and absurd." +</P> + +<P> +I made no answer, but placed my arm round her waist and stood ready to +begin. I avoided looking at her as much as possible, for it was growing +more and more difficult with each moment that passed to hold the +mastery over myself. I was consumed between hate and love. Yes, +love!—of an evil kind, I own, and in which there was no shred of +reverence—filled me with a sort of foolish fury, which mingled itself +with another and manlier craving, namely, to proclaim her vileness then +and there before all her titled and admiring friends, and to leave her +shamed in the dust of scorn, despised and abandoned. Yet I knew well +that were I to speak out—to declare my history and hers before that +brilliant crowd—I should be accounted mad, and that for a woman such +as she there existed no shame. +</P> + +<P> +The swinging measure of the slow Hungarian waltz, that most witching of +dances, danced perfectly only by those of the warm-blooded southern +temperament, now commenced. It was played pianissimo, and stole through +the room like the fluttering breath of a soft sea wind. I had always +been an excellent waltzer, and my step had fitted in with that of Nina +as harmoniously as the two notes of a perfect chord. She found it so on +this occasion, and glanced up with a look of gratified surprise as I +bore her lightly with languorous, dreamlike ease of movement through +the glittering ranks of our guests, who watched us admiringly as we +circled the room two or three times. +</P> + +<P> +Then—all present followed our lead, and in a couple of minutes the +ball-room was like a moving flower-garden in full bloom, rich with +swaying colors and rainbow-like radiance; while the music, growing +stronger, and swelling out in marked and even time, echoed forth like +the sound of clear-toned bells broken through by the singing of birds. +My heart beat furiously, my brain reeled, my senses swam as I felt my +wife's warm breath on my cheek; I clasped her waist more closely, I +held her little gloved hand more firmly. She felt the double pressure, +and, lifting her white eyelids fringed with those long dark lashes that +gave such a sleepy witchery to her eyes, her lips parted in a little +smile. +</P> + +<P> +"At last you love me!" she whispered. +</P> + +<P> +"At last, at last," I muttered, scarce knowing what I said. "Had I not +loved you at first, bellissima, I should not have been to you what I am +to-night." +</P> + +<P> +A low ripple of laughter was her response. +</P> + +<P> +"I knew it," she murmured again, half breathlessly, as I drew her with +swifter and more voluptuous motion into the vortex of the dancers. "You +tried to be cold, but I knew I could make you love me—yes, love me +passionately—and I was right." Then with an outburst of triumphant +vanity she added, "I believe you would die for me!" +</P> + +<P> +I bent over her more closely. My hot quick breath moved the feathery +gold of her hair. +</P> + +<P> +"I HAVE died for you," I said; "I have killed my old self for your +sake." +</P> + +<P> +Dancing still, encircled by my arms, and gliding along like a sea-nymph +on moonlighted foam, she sighed restlessly. +</P> + +<P> +"Tell me what you mean, amor mio," she asked, in the tenderest tone in +the world. +</P> + +<P> +Ah, God! that tender seductive cadence of her voice, how well I knew +it!—how often had it lured away my strength, as the fabled siren's +song had been wont to wreck the listening mariner. +</P> + +<P> +"I mean that you have changed me, sweetest!" I whispered, in fierce, +hurried accents. "I have seemed old—for you to-night I will be young +again—for you my chilled slow blood shall again be hot and quick as +lava—for you my long-buried past shall rise in all its pristine vigor; +for you I will be a lover, such as perhaps no woman ever had or ever +will have again!" +</P> + +<P> +She heard, and nestled closer to me in the dance. My words pleased her. +Next to her worship of wealth her delight was to arouse the passions of +men. She was very panther-like in her nature—her first tendency was to +devour, her next to gambol with any animal she met, though her sleek, +swift playfulness might mean death. She was by no means exceptional in +this; there are many women like her. +</P> + +<P> +As the music of the waltz grew slower and slower, dropping down to a +sweet and persuasive conclusion, I led my wife to her fauteuil, and +resigned her to the care of a distinguished Roman prince who was her +next partner. Then, unobserved, I slipped out to make inquiries +concerning Vincenzo. He had gone; one of the waiters at the hotel, a +friend of his, had accompanied him and seen him into the train for +Avellino. He had looked in at the ball-room before leaving, and had +watched me stand up to dance with my wife, then "with tears in his +eyes"—so said the vivacious little waiter who had just returned from +the station—he had started without daring to wish me good-bye. +</P> + +<P> +I heard this information of course with an apparent kindly +indifference, but in my heart I felt a sudden vacancy, a drear, strange +loneliness. With my faithful servant near me I had felt conscious of +the presence of a friend, for friend he was in his own humble, +unobtrusive fashion; but now I was alone—alone in a loneliness beyond +all conceivable comparison—alone to do my work, without prevention or +detection. I felt, as it were, isolated from humanity, set apart with +my victim on some dim point of time, from which the rest of the world +receded, where the searching eye of the Creator alone could behold me. +Only she and I and God—these three were all that existed for me in the +universe; between these three must justice be fulfilled. +</P> + +<P> +Musingly, with downcast eyes, I returned to the ball-room. At the door +a young girl faced me—she was the only daughter of a great Neapolitan +house. Dressed in pure white, as all such maidens are, with a crown of +snow-drops on her dusky hair, and her dimpled face lighted with +laughter, she looked the very embodiment of early spring. She addressed +me somewhat timidly, yet with all a child's frankness. +</P> + +<P> +"Is not this delightful? I feel as if I were in fairy-land! Do you know +this is my first ball?" +</P> + +<P> +I smiled wearily. +</P> + +<P> +"Ay, truly? And you are happy?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, happiness is not the word—it is ecstasy! How I wish it could last +forever! And—is it not strange?—I did not know I was beautiful till +to-night." +</P> + +<P> +She said this with perfect simplicity, and a pleased smile radiated her +fair features. I glanced at her with cold scrutiny. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah! and some one has told you so." +</P> + +<P> +She blushed and laughed a little consciously. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes; the great Prince de Majano. And he is too noble to say what is +not true, so I MUST be 'la piu bella donzella,' as he said, must I not?" +</P> + +<P> +I touched the snow-drops that she wore in a white cluster at her breast. +</P> + +<P> +"Look at your flowers, child," I said, earnestly. "See how they begin +to droop in this heated air. The poor things! How glad they would feel +could they again grow in the cool wet moss of the woodlands, waving +their little bells to the wholesome, fresh wind! Would they revive now, +think you, for your great Prince de Majano if he told them they were +fair? So with your life and heart, little one—pass them through the +scorching fire of flattery, and their purity must wither even as these +fragile blossoms. And as for beauty—are you more beautiful than SHE?" +</P> + +<P> +And I pointed slightly to my wife, who was at that moment courtesying +to her partner in the stately formality of the first quadrille. +</P> + +<P> +My young companion looked, and her clear eyes darkened enviously. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, no, no! But if I wore such lace and satin and pearls, and had such +jewels, I might perhaps be more like her!" +</P> + +<P> +I sighed bitterly. The poison had already entered this child's soul. I +spoke brusquely. +</P> + +<P> +"Pray that you may never be like her," I said, with somber sternness, +and not heeding her look of astonishment. "You are young—you cannot +yet have thrown off religion. Well, when you go home to-night, and +kneel beside your little bed, made holy by the cross above it and your +mother's blessing—pray—pray with all your strength that you may never +resemble in the smallest degree that exquisite woman yonder! So may you +be spared her fate." +</P> + +<P> +I paused, for the girl's eyes were dilated in extreme wonder and fear. +I looked at her, and laughed abruptly and harshly. +</P> + +<P> +"I forgot," I said; "the lady is my wife—I should have thought of +that! I was speaking of—another whom you do not know. Pardon me! when +I am fatigued my memory wanders. Pay no attention to my foolish +remarks. Enjoy yourself, my child, but do not believe all the pretty +speeches of the Prince de Majano. A rivederci!" +</P> + +<P> +And smiling a forced smile I left her, and mingled with the crowd of my +guests, greeting one here, another there, jesting lightly, paying +unmeaning compliments to the women who expected them, and striving to +distract my thoughts with the senseless laughter and foolish chatter of +the glittering cluster of society butterflies, all the while +desperately counting the tedious minutes, and wondering whether my +patience, so long on the rack, would last out its destined time. As I +made my way through the brilliant assemblage, Luziano Salustri, the +poet, greeted me with a grave smile. +</P> + +<P> +"I have had little time to congratulate you, conte," he said, in those +mellifluous accents of his which were like his own improvised music, +"but I assure you I do so with all my heart. Even in my most fantastic +dreams I have never pictured a fairer heroine of a life's romance than +the lady who is now the Countess Oliva." +</P> + +<P> +I silently bowed my thanks. +</P> + +<P> +"I am of a strange temperament, I suppose," he resumed. "To-night this +ravishing scene of beauty and splendor makes me sad at heart, I know +not why. It seems too brilliant, too dazzling. I would as soon go home +and compose a dirge as anything." +</P> + +<P> +I laughed satirically. +</P> + +<P> +"Why not do it?" I said. "You are not the first person who, being +present at a marriage, has, with perverse incongruity, meditated on a +funeral!" +</P> + +<P> +A wistful look came into his brilliant poetic eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"I have thought once or twice," he remarked in a low tone, "of that +misguided young man Ferrari. A pity, was it not, that the quarrel +occurred between you?" +</P> + +<P> +"A pity indeed!" I replied, brusquely. Then taking him by the arm I +turned him round so that he faced my wife, who was standing not far +off. "But look at the—the—ANGEL I have married! Is she not a fair +cause for a dispute even unto death? Fy on thee, Luziano!—why think of +Ferrari? He is not the first man who has been killed for the sake of a +woman, nor will he be the last!" +</P> + +<P> +Salustri shrugged his shoulders, and was silent for a minute or two. +Then he added with his own bright smile: +</P> + +<P> +"Still, amico, it would have been much better if it had ended in coffee +and cognac. Myself, I would rather shoot a man with an epigram than a +leaden bullet! By the do you remember our talking of Cain and Abel that +night?" +</P> + +<P> +"Perfectly." +</P> + +<P> +"I have wondered since," he continued half merrily, half seriously, +"whether the real cause of their quarrel has ever been rightly told. I +should not be at all surprised if one of these days some savant does +not discover a papyrus containing a missing page of Holy Writ, which +will ascribe the reason of the first bloodshed to a love affair. +Perhaps there were wood nymphs in those days, as we are assured there +were giants, and some dainty Dryad might have driven the first pair of +human brothers to desperation by her charms! What say you?" +</P> + +<P> +"It is more than probable," I answered, lightly. "Make a poem of it, +Salustri; people will say you have improved on the Bible!" +</P> + +<P> +And I left him with a gay gesture to join other groups, and to take my +part in the various dances which were now following quickly on one +another. The supper was fixed to take place at midnight. At the first +opportunity I had, I looked at the time. Quarter to eleven!—my heart +beat quickly, the blood rushed to my temples and surged noisily in my +ears. The hour I had waited for so long and so eagerly had come! At +last! at last! +</P> + +<HR ALIGN="center" WIDTH="60%"> + +<P> +Slowly and with a hesitating step I approached my wife. She was resting +after her exertions in the dance, and reclined languidly in a low +velvet chair, chatting gayly with that very Prince de Majano whose +honeyed compliments had partly spoiled the budding sweet nature of the +youngest girl in the room. Apologizing for interrupting the +conversation, I lowered my voice to a persuasive tenderness as I +addressed her. +</P> + +<P> +"Cara, sposina mia! permit me to remind you of your promise." +</P> + +<P> +What a radiant look she gave me! +</P> + +<P> +"I am all impatience to fulfill it! Tell me when—and how?" +</P> + +<P> +"Almost immediately. You know the private passage through which we +entered the hotel this morning on our return from church?" +</P> + +<P> +"Perfectly." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, meet me there in twenty minutes. We must avoid being observed as +we pass out. But," and I touched her delicate dress, "you will wear +something warmer than this?" +</P> + +<P> +"I have a long sable cloak that will do," she replied, brightly. "We +are not going far?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, not far." +</P> + +<P> +"We shall return in time for supper, of course?" +</P> + +<P> +I bent my head. +</P> + +<P> +"Naturally!" +</P> + +<P> +Her eyes danced mirthfully. +</P> + +<P> +"How romantic it seems! A moonlight stroll with you will be charming! +Who shall say you are not a sentimental bridegroom? Is there a bright +moon?" +</P> + +<P> +"I believe so." +</P> + +<P> +"Cosa bellissima!" and she laughed sweetly. "I look forward to the +trip! In twenty minutes then I shall be with you at the place you name, +Cesare; in the meanwhile the Marchese Gualdro claims me for this +mazurka." +</P> + +<P> +And she turned with her bewitching grace of manner to the marchese, who +at that moment advanced with his courteous bow and fascinating smile, +and I watched them as they glided forward together in the first figure +of the elegant Polish dance, in which all lovely women look their +loveliest. +</P> + +<P> +Then, checking the curse that rose to my lips, I hurried away. Up to my +own room I rushed with feverish haste, full of impatience to be rid of +the disguise I had worn so long. +</P> + +<P> +Within a few minutes I stood before my mirror, transformed into my old +self as nearly as it was possible to be. I could not alter the snowy +whiteness of my hair, but a few deft quick strokes of the razor soon +divested me of the beard that had given me so elderly an aspect, and +nothing remained but the mustache curling slightly up at the corners of +the lip, as I had worn it in past days. I threw aside the dark glasses, +and my eyes, densely brilliant, and fringed with the long lashes that +had always been their distinguishing feature, shone with all the luster +of strong and vigorous youth. I straightened myself up to my full +height, I doubled my fist and felt it hard as iron; I laughed aloud in +the triumphant power of my strong manhood. I thought of the old +rag-dealing Jew—"You could kill anything easily." Ay, so I +could!—even without the aid of the straight swift steel of the +Milanese dagger which I now drew from its sheath and regarded +steadfastly, while I carefully felt the edge of the blade from hilt to +point. Should I take it with me? I hesitated. Yes! it might be needed. +I slipped it safely and secretly into my vest. +</P> + +<P> +And now the proofs—the proofs! I had them all ready to my hand, and +gathered them quickly together; first the things that had been buried +with me—the gold chain on which hung the locket containing the +portraits of my wife and child, the purse and card-case which Nina +herself had given me, the crucifix the monk had laid on my breast in +the coffin. The thought of that coffin moved me to a stern smile—that +splintered, damp, and moldering wood must speak for itself by and by. +Lastly I look the letters sent me by the Marquis D'Avencourt—the +beautiful, passionate love epistles she had written to Guido Ferrari in +Rome. +</P> + +<P> +Now, was that all? I thoroughly searched both my rooms, ransacking +every corner. I had destroyed everything that could give the smallest +clew to my actions; I left nothing save furniture and small valuables, +a respectable present enough in their way, to the landlord of the hotel. +</P> + +<P> +I glanced again at myself in the mirror. Yes; I was once more Fabio +Romani, in spite of my white hair; no one that had ever known me +intimately could doubt my identity. I had changed my evening dress for +a rough, every-day suit, and now over this I threw my long Almaviva +cloak, which draped me from head to foot. I kept its folds well up +about my mouth and chin, and pulled on a soft slouched hat, with the +brim far down over my eyes. There was nothing unusual in such a +costume; it was common enough to many Neapolitans who have learned to +dread the chill night winds that blow down from the lofty Apennines in +early spring. Thus attired, too, I knew my features would be almost +invisible to HER more especially as the place of our rendezvous was a +long dim entresol lighted only by a single oil-lamp, a passage that led +into the garden, one that was only used for private purposes, having +nothing to do with the ordinary modes of exit and entrance to and from +the hotel. +</P> + +<P> +Into this hall I now hurried with an eager step; it was deserted; she +was not there. Impatiently I waited—the minutes seemed hours! Sounds +of music floated toward me from the distant ball-room—the dreamy, +swinging measure of a Viennese waltz. I could almost hear the flying +feet of the dancers. I was safe from all observation where I stood—the +servants were busy preparing the grand marriage supper, and all the +inhabitants of the hotel were absorbed in watching the progress of the +brilliant and exceptional festivities of the night. +</P> + +<P> +Would she never come? Suppose, after all, she should escape me! I +trembled at the idea, then put it from me with a smile at my own folly. +No, her punishment was just, and in her case the Fates were inflexible. +So I thought and felt. I paced up and down feverishly; I could count +the thick, heavy throbs of my own heart. How long the moments seemed! +Would she never come? Ah! at last! I caught the sound of a rustling +robe and a light step—a breath of delicate fragrance was wafted on the +air like the odor of falling orange-blossoms. I turned, and saw her +approaching. With swift grace she ran up to me as eagerly as a child, +her heavy cloak of rich Russian sable falling back from her shoulders +and displaying her glittering dress, the dark fur of the hood +heightening by contrast the fairness of her lovely flushed face, so +that it looked like the face of one of Correggio's angels framed in +ebony and velvet. She laughed, and her eyes flashed saucily. +</P> + +<P> +"Did I keep you waiting, caro mio?" she whispered; and standing on +tiptoe she kissed the hand with which I held my cloak muffled about me. +"How tall you look in that Almaviva! I am so sorry I am a little late, +but that last waltz was so exquisite I could not resist it; only I wish +YOU had danced it with me." +</P> + +<P> +"You honor me by the wish," I said, keeping one arm about her waist and +drawing her toward the door that opened into the garden. "Tell me, how +did you manage to leave the ball-room?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, easily. I slipped away from my partner at the end of the waltz, +and told him I should return immediately. Then I ran upstairs to my +room, got my cloak—and here I am." +</P> + +<P> +And she laughed again. She was evidently in the highest spirits. +</P> + +<P> +"You are very good to come with me at all, mia bella," I murmured as +gently as I could; "it is kind of you to thus humor my fancy. Did you +see your maid? does she know where you are going?" +</P> + +<P> +"She? Oh, no, she was not in my room at all. She is a great coquette, +you know; I dare say she is amusing herself with the waiters in the +kitchen. Poor thing! I hope she enjoys it." +</P> + +<P> +I breathed freely; we were so far undiscovered. No one had as yet +noticed our departure—no one had the least clew to my intentions, I +opened the door of the passage noiselessly, and we passed out. Wrapping +my wife's cloak more closely about her with much apparent tenderness, I +led her quickly across the garden. There was no one in sight—we were +entirely unobserved. On reaching the exterior gate of the inclosure I +left her for a moment, while I summoned a carriage, a common fiacre. +She expressed some surprise on seeing the vehicle. +</P> + +<P> +"I thought we were not going far?" she said. +</P> + +<P> +I reassured her on this point, telling her that I only desired to spare +her all possible fatigue. Satisfied with this explanation, she suffered +me to assist her into the carriage. I followed her, and calling to the +driver, "A la Villa Guarda," we rattled away over the rough uneven +stones of the back streets of the city. +</P> + +<P> +"La Villa Guarda!" exclaimed Nina. "Where is that?" +</P> + +<P> +"It is an old house," I replied, "situated near the place I spoke to +you of, where the jewels are." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh!" +</P> + +<P> +And apparently contented, she nestled back in the carriage, permitting +her head to rest lightly on my shoulder. I drew her closer to me, my +heart beating with a fierce, terrible joy. +</P> + +<P> +"Mine—mine at last!" I whispered in her ear. "Mine forever!" +</P> + +<P> +She turned her face upward and smiled victoriously; her cool fragrant +lips met my burning, eager ones in a close, passionate kiss. Yes, I +kissed her now—why should I not? She was as much mine as any purchased +slave, and merited less respect than a sultan's occasional female toy. +And as she chose to caress me, I let her do so: I allowed her to think +me utterly vanquished by the battery of her charms. Yet whenever I +caught an occasional glimpse of her face as we drove along in the +semi-darkness, I could not help wondering at the supreme vanity of the +woman! Her self-satisfaction was so complete, and, considering her +approaching fate, so tragically absurd! +</P> + +<P> +She was entirely delighted with herself, her dress, and her +conquest—as she thought—of me. Who could measure the height of the +dazzling visions she indulged in; who could fathom the depths of her +utter selfishness! +</P> + +<P> +Seeing one like her, beautiful, wealthy, and above all—society knows I +speak the truth—WELL DRESSED, for by the latter virtue alone is a +woman allowed any precedence nowadays—would not all the less fortunate +and lovely of her sex feel somewhat envious? Ah, yes; they would and +they do; but believe me, the selfish feminine thing, whose only sincere +worship is offered at the shrines of Fashion and Folly, is of all +creatures the one whose life is to be despised and never desired, and +whose death makes no blank even in the circles of her so-called best +friends. +</P> + +<P> +I knew well enough that there was not a soul in Naples who was really +attached to my wife—not one who would miss her, no, not even a +servant—though she, in her superb self-conceit, imagined herself to be +the adored beauty of the city. Those who had indeed loved her she had +despised, neglected, and betrayed. Musingly I looked down upon her as +she rested back in the carriage, encircled by my arm, while now and +then a little sigh of absolute delight in herself broke from her +lips—but we spoke scarcely at all. Hate has almost as little to say as +love! +</P> + +<P> +The night was persistently stormy, though no rain fell—the gale had +increased in strength, and the white moon only occasionally glared out +from the masses of white and gray cloud that rushed like flying armies +across the sky, and her fitful light shone dimly, as though she were a +spectral torch glimmering through a forest of shadow. Now and again +bursts of music, or the blare of discordant trumpets, reached our ears +from the more distant thoroughfares where the people were still +celebrating the feast of Giovedi Grasso, or the tinkle of passing +mandolins chimed in with the rolling wheels of our carriage; but in a +few moments we were out of reach of even such sounds as these. +</P> + +<P> +We passed the outer suburbs of the city and were soon on the open road. +The man I had hired drove fast; he knew nothing of us, he was probably +anxious to get back quickly to the crowded squares and illuminated +quarters where the principal merriment of the evening was going on, and +no doubt thought I showed but a poor taste in requiring to be driven +away, even for a short distance, out of Naples on such a night of +feasting and folly. He stopped at last; the castellated turrets of the +villa I had named were faintly visible among the trees; he jumped down +from his box and came to us. +</P> + +<P> +"Shall I drive up to the house?" he asked, looking as though he would +rather be spared this trouble. +</P> + +<P> +"No," I answered, indifferently, "you need not. The distance is short, +we will walk." +</P> + +<P> +And I stepped out into the road and paid him his money. +</P> + +<P> +"You seem anxious to get back to the city, my friend," I said, half +jocosely. +</P> + +<P> +"Si, davvero!" he replied, with decision, "I hope to get many a good +fare from the Count Oliva's marriage-ball to-night." +</P> + +<P> +"Ah! he is a rich fellow, that count," I said, as I assisted my wife to +alight, keeping her cloak well muffled round her so that this common +fellow should not perceive the glitter of her costly costume; "I wish I +were he!" +</P> + +<P> +The man grinned and nodded emphatically. He had no suspicion of my +identity. He took me, in all probability, for one of those "gay +gallants" so common in Naples, who, on finding at some public +entertainment a "dama" to their taste, hurry her off, carefully cloaked +and hooded, to a mysterious nook known only to themselves, where they +can complete the romance of the evening entirely to their own +satisfaction. Bidding me a lively buona notte, he sprung on his box +again, jerked his horse's head violently round with a volley of oaths, +and drove away at a rattling pace. Nina, standing on the road beside +me, looked after him with a bewildered air. +</P> + +<P> +"Could he not have waited to take us back?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +"No," I answered, brusquely; "we shall return by a different route. +Come." +</P> + +<P> +And passing my arm round her, I led her onward. She shivered slightly, +and there was a sound of querulous complaint in her voice as she said: +</P> + +<P> +"Have we to go much further, Cesare?" +</P> + +<P> +"Three minutes, walk will bring us to our destination," I replied, +briefly, adding in a softer tone, "Are you cold?" +</P> + +<P> +"A little," and she gathered her sables more closely about her and +pressed nearer to my side. The capricious moon here suddenly leaped +forth like the pale ghost of a frenzied dancer, standing tiptoe on the +edge of a precipitous chasm of black clouds. Her rays, pallidly green +and cold, fell full on the dreary stretch of land before us, touching +up with luminous distinctness those white mysterious milestones of the +Campo Santo which mark where the journeys of men, women, and children +began and where they left off, but never explain in what new direction +they are now traveling. My wife saw and stopped, trembling violently. +</P> + +<P> +"What place is this?" she asked, nervously. +</P> + +<P> +In all her life she had never visited a cemetery—she had too great a +horror of death. +</P> + +<P> +"It is where I keep all my treasures," I answered, and my voice sounded +strange and harsh in my own ears, while I tightened my grasp of her +full, warm waist. "Come with me, my beloved!" and in spite of my +efforts, my tone was one of bitter mockery. "With me you need have no +fear! Come." +</P> + +<P> +And I led her on, too powerless to resist my force, too startled to +speak—on, on, on, over the rank dewy grass and unmarked ancient +graves—on, till the low frowning gate of the house of my dead +ancestors faced me—on, on, on, with the strength of ten devils in my +arm as I held her—on, on, on, to her just doom! +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap36"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXXVI. +</H3> + +<P> +The moon had retreated behind a dense wall of cloud, and the landscape +was enveloped in semi-darkness. Reaching the door of the vault, I +unlocked it; it opened instantly, and fell back with a sudden clang. +She whom I held fast with my iron grip shrunk back, and strove to +release herself from my grasp. +</P> + +<P> +"Where are you going?" she demanded, in a faint tone. "I—I am afraid!" +</P> + +<P> +"Of what?"—I asked, endeavoring to control the passionate vibrations +of my voice and to speak unconcernedly. "Because it is dark? We shall +have a light directly—you will see—you—you," and to my own surprise +I broke into a loud and violent laugh. "You have no cause to be +frightened! Come!" +</P> + +<P> +And I lifted her swiftly and easily over the stone step of the entrance +and set her safely inside. INSIDE at last, thank Heaven! I shut the +great gate upon us both and locked it! Again that strange undesired +laugh broke from my lips involuntarily, and the echoes of the charnel +house responded to it with unearthly and ghastly distinctness. Nina +clung to me in the dense gloom. +</P> + +<P> +"Why do you laugh like that?" she cried, loudly and impatiently. "It +sounds horrible." +</P> + +<P> +I checked myself by a strong effort. +</P> + +<P> +"Does it? I am sorry—very sorry! I laugh because—because, cara mia, +our moonlight ramble is so pleasant—and amusing—is it not?" +</P> + +<P> +And I caught her to my heart and kissed her roughly. "Now," I +whispered, "I will carry you—the steps are too rough for your little +feet—dear, dainty, white little feet! I will carry you, you armful of +sweetness!—yes, carry you safely down into the fairy grotto where the +jewels are—SUCH jewels, and all for you—my love, my wife!" +</P> + +<P> +And I raised her from the ground as though she were a young, frail +child. Whether she tried to resist me or not I cannot now remember. I +bore her down the moldering stairway, setting my foot on each crooked +step with the firmness of one long familiar with the place. But my +brain reeled—rings of red fire circled in the darkness before my eyes; +every artery in my body seemed strained to bursting; the pent-up agony +and fury of my soul were such that I thought I should go mad or drop +down dead ere I gained the end of my long desire. As I descended I felt +her clinging to me; her hands were cold and clammy on my neck, as +though she were chilled to the blood with terror. At last I reached the +lowest step—I touched the floor of the vault. I set my precious burden +down. Releasing my clasp of her, I remained for a moment inactive, +breathing heavily. She caught my arm—she spoke in a hoarse whisper. +</P> + +<P> +"What place is this? Where is the light you spoke of?" +</P> + +<P> +I made no answer. I moved from her side, and taking matches from my +pocket, I lighted up six large candles which I had fixed in various +corners of the vault the night previously. Dazzled by the glare after +the intense darkness, she did not at once perceive the nature of the +place in which she stood. I watched her, myself still wrapped in the +heavy cloak and hat that so effectually disguised my features. What a +sight she was in that abode of corruption! Lovely, delicate, and full +of life, with the shine of her diamonds gleaming from under the folds +of rich fur that shrouded her, and the dark hood falling back as though +to display the sparkling wonder of her gold hair. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly, and with a violent shock, she realized the gloom of her +surroundings—the yellow flare of the waxen torches showed her the +stone niches, the tattered palls, the decaying trophies of armor, the +drear shapes of worm-eaten coffins, and with a shriek of horror she +rushed to me where I stood, as immovable as a statue clad in coat of +mail, and throwing her arms about me clung to me in a frenzy of fear. +</P> + +<P> +"Take me away, take me away!" she moaned, hiding her face against my +breast. "'Tis a vault—oh, Santissima Madonna!—a place for the dead! +Quick—quick! take me out to the air—let us go home—home—" +</P> + +<P> +She broke off abruptly, her alarm increasing at my utter silence. She +gazed up at me with wild wet eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"Cesare! Cesare! speak! What ails you? Why have you brought me here? +Touch me—kiss me! say something—anything—only speak!" +</P> + +<P> +And her bosom heaved convulsively; she sobbed with terror. +</P> + +<P> +I put her from me with a firm hand. I spoke in measured accents, tinged +with some contempt. +</P> + +<P> +"Hush, I pray you! This is no place for an hysterical scena. Consider +where you are! You have guessed aright—this is a vault—your own +mausoleum, fair lady!—if I mistake not—the burial-place of the Romani +family." +</P> + +<P> +At these words her sobs ceased, as though they had been frozen in her +throat; she stared at me in speechless fear and wonder. +</P> + +<P> +"Here," I went on with methodical deliberation, "here lie all the great +ancestors of your husband's family, heroes and martyrs in their day. +Here will your own fair flesh molder. Here," and my voice grew deeper +and more resolute, "here, six months ago, your husband himself, Fabio +Romani, was buried." +</P> + +<P> +She uttered no sound, but gazed at me like some beautiful pagan goddess +turned to stone by the Furies. Having spoken thus far I was silent, +watching the effect of what I had said, for I sought to torture the +very nerves of her base soul. At last her dry lips parted—her voice +was hoarse and indistinct. +</P> + +<P> +"You must be mad!" she said, with smothered anger and horror in her +tone. +</P> + +<P> +Then seeing me still immovable, she advanced and caught my hand half +commandingly, half coaxingly. I did not resist her. +</P> + +<P> +"Come," she implored, "come away at once!" and she glanced about her +with a shudder. "Let us leave this horrible place; as for the jewels, +if you keep them here, they may stay here; I would not wear them for +the world! Come." +</P> + +<P> +I interrupted her, holding her hand in a fierce grasp; I turned her +abruptly toward a dark object lying on the ground near us—my own +coffin broken asunder. I drew her close to it. +</P> + +<P> +"Look!" I said in a thrilling whisper, "what is this? Examine it well: +it is a coffin of flimsiest wood, a cholera coffin! What says this +painted inscription? Nay, do not start! It bears your husband's name; +he was buried in it. Then how comes it to be open? WHERE IS HE?" +</P> + +<P> +I felt her sway under me; a new and overwhelming terror had taken +instant possession of her, her limbs refused to support her, she sunk +on her knees. Mechanically and feebly she repeated the words after me— +</P> + +<P> +"WHERE IS HE? WHERE IS HE?" +</P> + +<P> +"Ay!" and my voice rang out through the hollow vault, its passion +restrained no more. "WHERE IS HE?—the poor fool, the miserable, +credulous dupe, whose treacherous wife played the courtesan under his +very roof, while he loved and blindly trusted her? WHERE IS HE? Here, +here!" and I seized her hands and forced her up from her kneeling +posture. "I promised you should see me as I am! I swore to grow young +to-night for your sake!—Now I keep my word! Look at me, Nina!—look at +me, my twice-wedded wife!—Look at me!—do you not know your HUSBAND?" +</P> + +<P> +And throwing my dark habiliments from me, I stood before her +undisguised! As though some defacing disease had swept over her at my +words and look, so her beauty suddenly vanished. Her face became drawn +and pinched and almost old—her lips turned blue, her eyes grew glazed, +and strained themselves from their sockets to stare at me; her very +hands looked thin and ghost-like as she raised them upward with a +frantic appealing gesture; there was a sort of gasping rattle in her +throat as she drew herself away from me with a convulsive gesture of +aversion, and crouched on the floor as though she sought to sink +through it and thus avoid my gaze. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, no, no, no!" she moaned, wildly, "not Fabio!—no, it cannot +be=-Fabio is dead—dead! And you!—you are mad!—this is some cruel +jest of yours—some trick to frighten me!" +</P> + +<P> +She broke off breathlessly, and her large, terrified eyes wandered to +mine again with a reluctant and awful wonder. She attempted to arise +from her crouching position; I approached, and assisted her to do so +with ceremonious politeness. She trembled violently at my touch, and +slowly staggering to her feet, she pushed back her hair from her +forehead and regarded me fixedly with a searching, anguished look, +first of doubt, then of dread, and lastly of convinced and hopeless +certainty, for she suddenly covered her eyes with her hands as though +to shut out some repulsive object and broke into a low wailing sound +like that of one in bitter physical pain. I laughed scornfully. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, do you know me at last?" I cried. "'Tis true I have somewhat +altered. This hair of mine was black, if you remember—it is white +enough now, blanched by the horrors of a living death such as you +cannot imagine, but which," and I spoke more slowly and impressively, +"you may possibly experience ere long. Yet in spite of this change I +think you know me! That is well. I am glad your memory serves you thus +far!" +</P> + +<P> +A low sound that was half a sob and half a cry broke from her. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, no, no!" she muttered, again, incoherently—"it cannot be! It must +be false—it is some vile plot—it cannot be true! True! Oh, Heaven! it +would be too cruel, too horrible!" +</P> + +<P> +I strode up to her. I drew her hands away from her eyes and grasped +them tightly in my own. +</P> + +<P> +"Hear me!" I said, in clear, decisive tones. "I have kept silence, God +knows, with a long patience, but now—now I can speak. Yes! you thought +me dead—you had every reason to think so, you had every proof to +believe so. How happy my supposed death made you! What a relief it was +to you!—what an obstruction removed from your path! But—I was buried +alive!" She uttered a faint shriek of terror, and looking wildly about +her, strove to wrench her hands from my clasp. I held them more +closely. "Ay, think of it, wife of mine!—you to whom luxury has been +second nature, think of this poor body straightened in a helpless +swoon, packed and pressed into yonder coffin and nailed up fast, shut +out from the blessed light and air, as one would have thought, forever! +Who could have dreamed that life still lingered in me—life still +strong enough to split asunder the boards that inclosed me, and leave +them shattered, as you see them now!" +</P> + +<P> +She shuddered and glanced with aversion toward the broken coffin, and +again tried to loosen her hands from mine. She looked at me with a +burning anger in her face. +</P> + +<P> +"Let me go!" she panted. "Madman! liar!—let me go!" +</P> + +<P> +I released her instantly and stood erect, regarding her fixedly. +</P> + +<P> +"I am no madman," I said, composedly; "and you know as well as I do +that I speak the truth. When I escaped from that coffin I found myself +a prisoner in this very vault—this house of my perished ancestry, +where, if old legends could be believed, the very bones that are stored +up here would start and recoil from YOUR presence as pollution to the +dead, whose creed was HONOR." +</P> + +<P> +The sound of her sobbing breath ceased suddenly; she fixed her eyes on +mine; they glittered defiantly. +</P> + +<P> +"For one long awful night," I resumed, "I suffered here. I might have +starved—or perished of thirst. I thought no agony could surpass what I +endured! But I was mistaken: there was a sharper torment in store for +me. I discovered a way of escape; with grateful tears I thanked God for +my rescue, for liberty, for life! Oh, what a fool was I! How could I +dream that my death was so desired!—how could I know that I had better +far have died than have returned to SUCH a home!" +</P> + +<P> +Her lips moved, but she uttered no word; she shivered as though with +intense cold. I drew nearer to her. +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps you doubt my story?" +</P> + +<P> +She made no answer. A rapid impulse of fury possessed me. +</P> + +<P> +"Speak!" I cried, fiercely, "or by the God above us I will MAKE you! +Speak!" and I drew the dagger I carried from my vest. "Speak the truth +for once—'twill be difficult to you who love lies—but this time I +must be answered! Tell me, do you know me? DO you or do you NOT believe +that I am indeed your husband—your living husband, Fabio Romani?" +</P> + +<P> +She gasped for breath. The sight of my infuriated figure—the glitter +of the naked steel before her eyes—the suddenness of my action, the +horror of her position, all terrified her into speech. She flung +herself down before me in an attitude of abject entreaty. She found her +voice at last. +</P> + +<P> +"Mercy! mercy!" she cried. "Oh, God! you will not kill me? +Anything—anything but death; I am too young to die! Yes, yes; I know +you are Fabio—Fabio, my husband, Fabio, whom I thought +dead—Fabio—oh!" and she sobbed convulsively. "You said you loved me +to-day—when you married me! Why did you marry me? I was your wife +already—why—why? Oh, horrible, horrible! I see—I understand it all +now! But do not, do not kill me, Fabio—I am afraid to die!" +</P> + +<P> +And she hid her face at my feet and groveled there. As quickly calmed +as I had been suddenly furious, I put back the dagger. I smoothed my +voice and spoke with mocking courtesy. +</P> + +<P> +"Pray do not alarm yourself," I said, coolly. "I have not the slightest +intention of killing you! I am no vulgar murderer, yielding to mere +brute instincts. You forget: a Neapolitan has hot passions, but he also +has finesse, especially in matters of vengeance. I brought you here to +tell you of my existence, and to confront you with the proofs of it. +Rise, I beg of you, we have plenty of time to talk; with a little +patience I shall make things clear to you—rise!" +</P> + +<P> +She obeyed me, lifting herself up reluctantly with a long, shuddering +sigh. As she stood upright I laughed contemptuously. +</P> + +<P> +"What! no love words for me?" I cried, "not one kiss, not one smile, +not one word of welcome? You say you know me—well!—are you not glad +to see your husband?—you, who were such an inconsolable widow?" +</P> + +<P> +A strange quiver passed over her face—she wrung her hands together +hard, but she said no word. +</P> + +<P> +"Listen!" I said, "there is more to tell. When I broke loose from the +grasp of death, when I came HOME—I found my vacant post already +occupied. I arrived in time to witness a very pretty pastoral play. The +scene was the ilex avenue—the actors, you, my wife, and Guido, my +friend!" +</P> + +<P> +She raised her head and uttered a low exclamation of fear. I advanced a +step or two and spoke more rapidly. +</P> + +<P> +"You hear? There was moonlight, and the song of nightingales—yes; the +stage effects were perfect! <I>I</I> watched the progress of the +comedy—with what emotions you may imagine. I learned much that was +news to me. I became aware that for a lady of your large heart and +sensitive feelings ONE husband was not sufficient"—here I laid my hand +on her shoulder and gazed into her face, while her eyes, dilated with +terror, stared hopelessly up to mine—"and that within three little +months of your marriage to me you provided yourself with another. Nay, +no denial can serve you! Guido Ferrari was husband to you in all things +but the name. I mastered the situation—I rose to the emergency. Trick +for trick, comedy for comedy! You know the rest. As the Count Oliva you +can not deny that I acted well! For the second time I courted you, but +not half so eagerly as YOU courted ME! For the second time I have +married you! Who shall deny that you are most thoroughly mine—mine, +body and soul, till death do us part!" +</P> + +<P> +And I loosened my grasp of her: she writhed from me like some +glittering wounded serpent. The tears had dried on her cheeks, her +features were rigid and wax-like as the features of a corpse; only her +dark eyes shone, and these seemed preternaturally large, and gleamed +with an evil luster. I moved a little away, and turning my own coffin +on its side, I sat down upon it as indifferently as though it were an +easy-chair in a drawing-room. Glancing at her then, I saw a wavering +light upon her face. Some idea had entered into her mind. She moved +gradually from the wall where she leaned, watching me fearfully as she +did so. I made no attempt to stir from the seat I occupied. +</P> + +<P> +Slowly, slowly, still keeping her eyes on me, she glided step by step +onward and passed me—then with a sudden rush she reached the stairway +and bounded up it with the startled haste of a hunted deer. I smiled to +myself. I heard her shaking the iron gateway to and fro with all her +feeble strength; she called aloud for help several times. Only the +sullen echoes of the vault answered her, and the wild whistle of the +wind as it surged through the trees of the cemetery. At last she +screamed furiously, as a savage cat might scream—the rustle of her +silken robes came swiftly sweeping down the steps, and with a spring +like that of a young tigress she confronted me, the blood now burning +wrathfully in her face, and transforming it back to something of its +old beauty. +</P> + +<P> +"Unlock that door!" she cried, with a furious stamp of her foot. +"Assassin! traitor! I hate you! I always hated you! Unlock the door, I +tell you! You dare not disobey me; you have no right to murder me!" +</P> + +<P> +I looked at her coldly; the torrent of her words was suddenly checked, +something in my expression daunted her; she trembled and shrunk back. +</P> + +<P> +"No right!" I said, mockingly. "I differ from you! A man ONCE married +has SOME right over his wife, but a man TWICE married to the same woman +has surely gained a double authority! And as for 'DARE NOT!' there is +nothing I 'dare not' do to-night." +</P> + +<P> +And with that I rose and approached her. A torrent of passionate +indignation boiled in my veins; I seized her two white arms and held +her fast. +</P> + +<P> +"You talk of murder!" I muttered, fiercely. "YOU—you who have +remorselessly murdered two men! Their blood be on your head! For though +I live, I am but the moving corpse of the man I was—hope, faith, +happiness, peace—all things good and great in me have been slain by +YOU. And as for Guido—" +</P> + +<P> +She interrupted me with a wild sobbing cry. +</P> + +<P> +"He loved me! Guido loved me!" +</P> + +<P> +"Ay, he loved you, oh, devil in the shape of a woman! he loved you! +Come here, here!" and in a fury I could not restrain I dragged her, +almost lifted her along to one corner of the vault, where the light of +the torches scarcely illumined the darkness, and there I pointed +upward. "Above our very heads—to the left of where we stand—the brave +strong body of your lover lies, festering slowly in the wet mould, +thanks to you!—the fair, gallant beauty of it all marred by the +red-mouthed worms—the thick curls of hair combed through by the +crawling feet of vile insects—the poor frail heart pierced by a gaping +wound—" +</P> + +<P> +"You killed him; you—you are to blame," she moaned, restlessly, +striving to turn her face away from me. +</P> + +<P> +"<I>I</I> killed him? No, no, not I, but YOU! He died when he learned your +treachery—when he knew you were false to him for the sake of wedding a +supposed wealthy stranger—my pistol-shot but put him out of torment. +You! you were glad of his death—as glad as when you thought of mine! +YOU talk of murder! Oh, vilest among women! if I could murder you +twenty times over, what then? Your sins outweigh all punishment!" +</P> + +<P> +And I flung her from me with a gesture of contempt and loathing. This +time my words had struck home. She cowered before me in horror—her +sables were loosened and scarcely protected her, the richness of her +ball costume was fully displayed, and the diamonds on her bosom heaved +restlessly up and down as she panted with excitement, rage and fear. +</P> + +<P> +"I do not see," she muttered, sullenly, "why you should blame ME! I am +no worse than other women!" +</P> + +<P> +"No worse! no worse!" I cried. "Shame, shame upon you that thus outrage +your sex! Learn for once what MEN think of unfaithful wives—for may be +you are ignorant. The novels you have read in your luxurious, idle +hours have perhaps told you that infidelity is no sin—merely a little +social error easily condoned, or set right by the divorce court. Yes! +modern books and modern plays teach you so: in them the world swerves +upside down, and vice looks like virtue. But <I>I</I> will tell you what may +seem to you a strange and wonderful thing! There is no mean animal, no +loathsome object, no horrible deformity of nature so utterly repulsive +to a true man as a faithless wife! The cowardly murderer who lies in +wait for his victim behind some dark door, and stabs him in the back as +he passes by unarmed—he, I say, is more to be pardoned than the woman +who takes a husband's name, honor, position, and reputation among his +fellows, and sheltering herself with these, passes her beauty +promiscuously about like some coarse article of commerce, that goes to +the highest bidder! Ay, let your French novels and books of their type +say what they will—infidelity is a crime, a low, brutal crime, as bad +if not worse than murder, and deserves as stern a sentence!" +</P> + +<P> +A sudden spirit of defiant insolence possessed her. She drew herself +erect, and her level brows knitted in a dark frown. +</P> + +<P> +"Sentence!" she exclaimed, imperiously. "How dare you judge me! What +harm have I done? If I am beautiful, is that my fault? If men are +fools, can <I>I</I> help it? You loved me—Guido loved me—could <I>I</I> prevent +it? I cared nothing for him, and less for you!" +</P> + +<P> +"I know it," I said, bitterly. "Love was never part of YOUR nature! Our +lives were but cups of wine for your false lips to drain; once the +flavor pleased you, but now—now, think you not the dregs taste +somewhat cold?" +</P> + +<P> +She shrunk at my glance—her head drooped, and drawing near a +projecting stone in the wall, she sat down upon it, pressing one hand +to her heart. +</P> + +<P> +"No heart, no conscience, no memory!" I cried. "Great Heaven! that such +a thing should live and call itself woman! The lowest beast of the +field has more compassion for its kind! Listen: before Guido died he +knew me, even as my child, neglected by you, in her last agony knew her +father. She being innocent, passed in peace; but he!—imagine if you +can, the wrenching torture in which he perished, knowing all! How his +parted spirit must curse you!" +</P> + +<P> +She raised her hands to her head and pushed away the light curls from +her brow. There was a starving, hunted, almost furious look in her +eyes, but she fixed them steadily on me. +</P> + +<P> +"See," I went on—"here are more proofs of the truth of my story. These +things were buried with me," and I threw into her lap as she sat before +me the locket and chain, the card-case and purse she herself had given +me. "You will no doubt recognize them. This—" and I showed her the +monk's crucifix—"this was laid on my breast in the coffin. It may be +useful to you—you can pray to it presently!" +</P> + +<P> +She interrupted me with a gesture of her hand; she spoke as though in a +dream. +</P> + +<P> +"You escaped from this vault?" she said, in a low tone, looking from +right to left with searching eagerness. "Tell me how—and—where?" +</P> + +<P> +I laughed scornfully, guessing her thoughts. +</P> + +<P> +"It matters little," I replied. "The passage I discovered is now closed +and fast cemented. I have seen to that myself! No other living creature +left here can escape as I did. Escape is impossible." +</P> + +<P> +A stifled cry broke from her; she threw herself at my feet, letting the +things I had given her as proofs of my existence fall heedlessly on the +floor. +</P> + +<P> +"Fabio! Fabio!" she cried, "save me, pity me! Take me out to the +light—the air—let me live! Drag me through Naples—let all the crowd +see me dishonored, brand me with the worst of names, make of me a +common outcast—only let me feel the warm life throbbing in my veins! I +will do anything, say anything, be anything—only let me live! I loath +the cold and darkness—the horrible—horrible ways of death!" She +shuddered violently and clung to me afresh. "I am so young! and after +all, am I so vile? There are women who count their lovers by the score, +and yet they are not blamed; why should I suffer more than they?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why, why?" I echoed, fiercely. "Because for once a husband takes the +law into his own hands—for once a wronged man insists on justice—for +once he dares to punish the treachery that blackens his honor! Were +there more like me there would be fewer like you! A score of lovers! +'Tis not your fault that you had but one! I have something else to say +which concerns you. Not content with fooling two men, you tried the +same amusement on a supposed third. Ay, you wince at that! While you +thought me to be the Count Oliva—while you were betrothed to me in +that character, you wrote to Guido Ferrari in Rome. Very charming +letters! here they are," and I flung them down to her. "I have no +further use for them—I have read them all!" +</P> + +<P> +She let them lie where they fell; she still crouched at my feet, and +her restless movements loosened her cloak so far that it hung back from +her shoulders, showing the jewels that flashed on her white neck and +arms like points of living light. I touched the circlet of diamonds in +her hair—I snatched it from her. +</P> + +<P> +"These are mine!" I cried, "as much as this signet I wear, which was +your love-gift to Guido Ferrari, and which you afterward returned to +me, its rightful owner. These are my mother's gems—how dared you wear +them? The stones <I>I</I> gave you are your only fitting ornaments—they are +stolen goods, filched by the blood-stained hands of the blackest +brigand in Sicily! I promised you more like them; behold them!"—and I +threw open the coffin-shaped chest containing the remainder of Carmelo +Neri's spoils. It occupied a conspicuous position near where I stood, +and I had myself arranged its interior so that the gold ornaments and +precious stones should be the first things to meet her eyes. "You see +now," I went on, "where the wealth of the supposed Count Oliva came +from. I found this treasure hidden here on the night of my +burial—little did I think then what dire need I should have for its +usage! It has served me well; it is not yet exhausted; the remainder is +at your service!" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap37"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXXVII. +</H3> + +<P> +At these words she rose from her knees and stood upright. Making an +effort to fasten her cloak with her trembling hands, she moved +hesitatingly toward the brigand's coffin and leaned over it, looking in +with a faint light of hope as well as curiosity in her haggard face. I +watched her in vague wonderment—she had grown old so suddenly. The +peach-like bloom and delicacy of her flesh had altogether +disappeared—her skin appeared drawn and dry as though parched in +tropical heat. Her hair was disordered, and fell about her in +clustering showers of gold—that, and her eyes, were the only signs of +youth about her. A sudden wave of compassion swept over my soul. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh wife!" I exclaimed—"wife that I so ardently loved—wife that I +would have died for indeed, had you bade me!—why did you betray me? I +thought you truth itself—ay! and if you had but waited for one day +after you thought me dead, and THEN chosen Guido for your lover, I tell +you, so large was my tenderness, I would have pardoned you! Though +risen from the grave, I would have gone away and made no sign—yes if +you had waited—if you had wept for me ever so little! But when your +own lips confessed your crime—when I knew that within three months of +our marriage-day you had fooled me—when I learned that my love, my +name, my position, my honor, were used as mere screens to shelter your +intrigue with the man I called friend!—God! what creature of mortal +flesh and blood could forgive such treachery? I am no more than +others—but I loved you—and in proportion to my love, so is the +greatness of my wrongs!" +</P> + +<P> +She listened—she advanced a little toward me—a faint smile dawned on +her pallid lips—she whispered: +</P> + +<P> +"Fabio! Fabio!" +</P> + +<P> +I looked at her—unconsciously my voice dropped into a cadence of +intense melancholy softened by tenderness. +</P> + +<P> +"Ay—Fabio! What wouldst thou with a ghost of him? Does it not seem +strange to thee—that hated name?—thou, Nina, whom I loved as few men +love women—thou who gavest me no love at all—thou, who hast broken my +heart and made me what I am!" +</P> + +<P> +A hard, heavy sob rose in my throat and choked my utterance. I was +young; and the cruel waste and destruction of my life seemed at that +moment more than I could bear. She heard me, and the smile brightened +more warmly on her countenance. She came close to me—half timidly yet +coaxingly she threw one arm about my neck—her bosom heaved quickly. +</P> + +<P> +"Fabio," she murmured—"Fabio, forgive me! I spoke in haste—I do not +hate thee! Come! I will make amends for all thy suffering—I will love +thee—I will be true to thee, I will be all thine! See! thou knowest I +have not lost my beauty!" +</P> + +<P> +And she clung to me with passion, raising her lips to mine, while with +her large inquiring eyes she searched my face for the reply to her +words. I gazed down upon her with sorrowful sternness. +</P> + +<P> +"Beauty? Mere food for worms—I care not for it! Of what avail is a +fair body tenanted by a fiendish soul? Forgiveness?—you ask too late! +A wrong like mine can never be forgiven." +</P> + +<P> +There ensued a silence. She still embraced me, but her eyes roved over +me as though she searched for some lost thing. The wind tore furiously +among the branches of the cypresses outside, and screamed through the +small holes and crannies of the stone-work, rattling the iron gate at +the summit of the stairway with a clanking sound, as though the famous +brigand chief had escaped with all his chains upon him, and were +clamoring for admittance to recover his buried property. Suddenly her +face lightened with an expression of cunning intensity—and before I +could perceive her intent—with swift agility she snatched from my vest +the dagger I carried! +</P> + +<P> +"Too late!" she cried, with a wild laugh. "No; not too late! +Die—wretch!" +</P> + +<P> +For one second the bright steel flashed in the wavering light as she +poised it in act to strike—the next, I had caught her murderous hand +and forced it down, and was struggling with her for the mastery of the +weapon. She held it with a desperate grip—she fought with me +breathlessly, clinging to me with all her force—she reminded me of +that ravenous unclean bird with which I had had so fierce a combat on +the night of my living burial. For some brief moments she was possessed +of supernatural strength—she sprung and tore at my clothes, keeping +the poniard fast in her clutch. At last I thrust her down, panting and +exhausted, with fury flashing in her eyes—I wrenched the steel from +her hand and brandished it above her. +</P> + +<P> +"Who talks of murder NOW?" I cried, in bitter derision. "Oh, what a joy +you have lost! What triumph for you, could you have stabbed me to the +heart and left me here dead indeed! What a new career of lies would +have been yours! How sweetly you would have said your prayers with the +stain of my blood upon your soul! Ay! you would have fooled the world +to the end, and died in the odor of sanctity. And you dared to ask my +forgiveness—" +</P> + +<P> +I stopped short—a strange, bewildered expression suddenly passed over +her face—she looked about her in a dazed, vague way—then her gaze +became suddenly fixed, and she pointed toward a dark corner and +shuddered. +</P> + +<P> +"Hush—hush!" she said, in a low, terrified whisper. "Look! how still +he stands! how pale he seems! Do not speak—do not move—hush! he must +not hear your voice—I will go to him and tell him all—all—" She rose +and stretched out her arms with a gesture of entreaty: +</P> + +<P> +"Guido! Guido!" +</P> + +<P> +With a sudden chilled awe at my heart I looked toward the spot that +thus riveted her attention—all was shrouded in deep gloom. She caught +my arm. +</P> + +<P> +"Kill him!" she whispered, fiercely—"kill him, and then I will love +you! Ah!" and with an exclamation of fear she began to retire swiftly +backward as though confronted by some threatening figure. "He is +coming—nearer! No, no, Guido! You shall not touch me—you dare +not—Fabio is dead and I am free—free!" She paused—her wild eyes +gazed upward—did she see some horror there? She put up both hands as +though to shield herself from some impending blow, and uttering a loud +cry she fell prone on the stone floor insensible. Or dead? I balanced +this question indifferently, as I looked down upon her inanimate form. +The flavor of vengeance was hot in my mouth, and filled me with +delirious satisfaction. True, I had been glad, when my bullet whizzing +sharply through the air had carried death to Guido, but my gladness had +been mingled with ruthfulness and regret. NOW, not one throb of pity +stirred me—not the faintest emotion of tenderness, Ferrari's sin was +great, but SHE tempted him—her crime outweighed his. And now—there +she lay white and silent—in a swoon that was like death—that might be +death for aught I knew—or cared! Had her lover's ghost indeed appeared +before the eyes of her guilty conscience? I did not doubt it—I should +scarcely have been startled had I seen the poor pale shadow of him by +my side, as I musingly gazed upon the fair fallen body of the traitress +who had wantonly wrecked both our lives. +</P> + +<P> +"Ay, Guido," I muttered, half aloud—"dost see the work? Thou art +avenged, frail spirit—avenged as well as I—part thou in peace from +earth and its inhabitants!—haply thou shalt cleanse in pure fire the +sins of thy lower nature, and win a final pardon; but for her—is hell +itself black enough to match HER soul?" +</P> + +<P> +And I slowly moved toward the stairway; it was time, I thought, with a +grim resolve—TO LEAVE HER! Possibly she was dead—if not—why then she +soon would be! I paused irresolute—the wild wind battered ceaselessly +at the iron gateway, and wailed as though with a hundred voices of +aerial creatures, lamenting. The torches were burning low, the darkness +of the vault deepened. Its gloom concerned me little—I had grown +familiar with its unsightly things, its crawling spiders, its strange +uncouth beetles, the clusters of blue fungi on its damp walls. The +scurrying noises made by bats and owls, who, scared by the lighted +candles, were hiding themselves in holes and corners of refuge, +startled me not at all—I was well accustomed to such sounds. In my +then state of mind, an emperor's palace were less fair to me than this +brave charnel house—this stone-mouthed witness of my struggle back to +life and all life's misery. The deep-toned bell outside the cemetery +struck ONE! We had been absent nearly two hours from the brilliant +assemblage left at the hotel. No doubt we were being searched for +everywhere—it mattered not! they would not come to seek us HERE. I +went on resolutely toward the stair—as I placed my foot on the firm +step of the ascent, my wife stirred from her recumbent position—her +swoon had passed. She did not perceive me where I stood, ready to +depart—she murmured something to herself in a low voice, and taking in +her hand the falling tresses of her own hair she seemed to admire its +color and texture, for she stroked it and restroked it and finally +broke into a gay laugh—a laugh so out of all keeping with her +surroundings, that it startled me more than her attempt to murder me. +</P> + +<P> +She presently stood up with all her own lily-like grace and fairy +majesty; and smiling as though she were a pleased child, she began to +arrange her disordered dress with elaborate care. I paused wonderingly +and watched her. She went to the brigand's chest of treasure and +proceeded to examine its contents—laces, silver and gold embroideries, +antique ornaments, she took carefully in her hands, seeming mentally to +calculate their cost and value. Jewels that were set as necklaces, +bracelets and other trinkets of feminine wear she put on, one after the +other, till her neck and arms were loaded—and literally blazed with +the myriad scintillations of different-colored gems. I marveled at her +strange conduct, but did not as yet guess its meaning. I moved away +from the staircase and drew imperceptibly nearer to her—Hark! what was +that? A strange, low rumbling like a distant earthquake, followed by a +sharp cracking sound; I stopped to listen attentively. A furious gust +of wind rushed round the mausoleum shrieking wildly like some devil in +anger, and the strong draught flying through the gateway extinguished +two of the flaring candles. My wife, entirely absorbed in counting over +Carmelo Neri's treasures, apparently saw and heard nothing. Suddenly +she broke into another laugh—a chuckling, mirthless laugh such as +might come from the lips of the aged and senile. The sound curdled the +blood in my veins—it was the laugh of a mad-woman! With an earnest, +distinct voice I called to her: +</P> + +<P> +"Nina! Nina!" +</P> + +<P> +She turned toward me still smiling—her eyes were bright, her face had +regained its habitual color, and as she stood in the dim light, with +her rich tresses falling about her, and the clustering gems massed +together in a glittering fire against her white skin, she looked +unnaturally, wildly beautiful. She nodded to me, half graciously, half +haughtily, but gave me no answer. Moved with quick pity I called again: +</P> + +<P> +"Nina!" +</P> + +<P> +She laughed again—the same terrible laugh. +</P> + +<P> +"Si, si! Son' bella, son' bellissima!" she murmured. "E tu, Guido mio? +Tu m'ami?" +</P> + +<P> +Then raising one hand as though commanding attention she cried: +</P> + +<P> +"Ascolta!" and began to sing clearly though feebly: +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + "Ti saluto, Rosignuolo!<BR> + Nel tuo duolo—ti saluto!<BR> + Sei l'amante della rosa<BR> + Che morendo si fa sposa!"<BR> +</P> + +<P> +As the old familiar melody echoed through the dreary vault, my bitter +wrath against her partially lessened; with the swiftness of my southern +temperament a certain compassion stirred my soul. She was no longer +quite the same woman who had wronged and betrayed me—she had the +helplessness and fearful innocence of madness—in that condition I +could not have hurt a hair of her head. I stepped hastily forward—I +resolved to take her out of the vault—after all I would not leave her +thus—but as I approached, she withdrew from me, and with an angry +stamp of her foot motioned me backward, while a dark frown knitted her +fair brows. +</P> + +<P> +"Who are you?" she cried, imperiously. "You are dead, quite dead! How +dare you come out of your grave!" +</P> + +<P> +And she stared at me defiantly—then suddenly clasping her hands as +though in ecstasy, and seeming to address some invisible being at her +side, she said, in low, delighted tones: +</P> + +<P> +"He is dead, Guido! Are you not glad?" She paused, apparently expecting +some reply, for she looked about her wonderingly, and continued—"You +did not answer me—are you afraid? Why are you so pale and stern? Have +you just come back from Rome? What have you heard? That I am +false?—oh, no! I will love you still—Ah! I forgot! you also are dead, +Guido! I remember now—you cannot hurt me any more—I am free—and +quite happy!" +</P> + +<P> +Smiling, she continued her song: +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + "Ti saluto, Sol di Maggio<BR> + Col two raggio ti saluto!<BR> + Sei l'Apollo del passato<BR> + Sei l'amore incoronato!"<BR> +</P> + +<P> +Again—again!—that hollow rumbling and crackling sound overhead. What +could it be? +</P> + +<P> +"L'amore incoronato!" hummed Nina fitfully, as she plunged her round, +jeweled arm down again into the chest of treasure. "Si, si! Che morendo +si fa sposa—che morendo si fa sposa—ah!" +</P> + +<P> +This last was an exclamation of pleasure; she had found some toy that +charmed her—it was the old mirror set in its frame of pearls. The +possession of this object seemed to fill her with extraordinary joy, +and she evidently retained no consciousness of where she was, for she +sat down on the upturned coffin, which had held my living body, with +absolute indifference. Still singing softly to herself, she gazed +lovingly at her own reflection, and fingered the jewels she wore, +arranging and rearranging them in various patterns with one hand, while +in the other she raised the looking-glass in the flare of the candles +which lighted up its quaint setting. A strange and awful picture she +made there—gazing with such lingering tenderness on the portrait of +her own beauty—while surrounded by the moldering coffins that silently +announced how little such beauty was worth—playing with jewels, the +foolish trinkets of life, in the abode of skeletons, where the password +is death! Thinking thus, I gazed at her, as one might gaze at a dead +body—not loathingly any more, but only mournfully. My vengeance was +satiated. I could not wage war against this vacantly smiling mad +creature, out of whom the spirit of a devilish intelligence and cunning +had been torn, and who therefore was no longer the same woman. Her loss +of wit should compensate for my loss of love. I determined to try and +attract her attention again. I opened my lips to speak—but before the +words could form themselves, that odd rumbling noise again broke on my +ears—this time with a loud reverberation that rolled overhead like the +thunder of artillery. Before I could imagine the reason of it—before I +could advance one step toward my wife, who still sat on the upturned +coffin, smiling at herself in the mirror—before I could utter a word +or move an inch, a tremendous crash resounded through the vault, +followed by a stinging shower of stones, dust, and pulverized mortar! I +stepped backward amazed, bewildered—speechless—instinctively shutting +my eyes—when I opened them again all was darkness—all was silence! +Only the wind howled outside more frantically than ever—a sweeping +gust whirled through the vault, blowing some dead leaves against my +face, and I heard the boughs of trees creaking noisily in the fury of +the storm. Hush!—was that a faint moan? Quivering in every limb, and +sick with a nameless dread, I sought in my pocket for matches—I found +them. Then with an effort, mastering the shuddering revulsion of my +nerves, I struck a light. The flame was so dim that for an instant I +could see nothing. I called loudly: +</P> + +<P> +"Nina!" There was no answer. +</P> + +<P> +One of the extinguished candles was near me; I lighted it with +trembling hands and held it aloft—then I uttered a wild shriek of +horror! Oh, God of inexorable justice, surely Thy vengeance was greater +than mine! An enormous block of stone, dislodged by the violence of the +storm, had fallen from the roof of the vault; fallen sheer down over +the very place where SHE had sat a minute or two before, fantastically +smiling! Crushed under the huge mass—crushed into the very splinters +of my own empty coffin, she lay—and yet—and yet—I could see nothing, +save one white hand protruding—the hand on which the marriage-ring +glittered mockingly! Even as I looked, that hand quivered +violently—beat the ground—and then—was still! It was horrible. In +dreams I see that quivering white hand now, the jewels on it sparkling +with derisive luster. It appeals, it calls, it threatens, it prays! and +when my time comes to die, it will beckon me to my grave! A portion of +her costly dress was visible—my eyes lighted on this—and I saw a slow +stream of blood oozing thickly from beneath the stone—the ponderous +stone that no man could have moved an inch—the stone that sealed her +awful sepulcher! Great Heaven! how fast the crimson stream of life +trickled!—staining the snowy lace of her garment with a dark and +dreadful hue! Staggering feebly like a drunken man—half delirious with +anguish—I approached and touched that small white hand that lay +stiffly on the ground—I bent my head—I almost kissed it, but some +strange revulsion rose in my soul and forbade the act! +</P> + +<P> +In a stupor of dull agony I sought and found the crucifix of the monk +Cipriano that had fallen to the floor—I closed the yet warm +finger-tips around it and left it thus; an unnatural, terrible calmness +froze the excitement of my strained nerves. +</P> + +<P> +"'Tis all I can do for thee!" I muttered, incoherently. "May Christ +forgive thee, though I cannot!" +</P> + +<P> +And covering my eyes to shut out the sight before me I turned away. I +hurried in a sort of frenzy toward the stairway—on reaching the lowest +step I extinguished the torch I carried. Some impulse made me glance +back—and I saw what I see now—what I shall always see till I die! An +aperture had been made through the roof of the vault by the fall of the +great stone, and through this the fitful moon poured down a long +ghostly ray. The green glimmer, like a spectral lamp, deepened the +surrounding darkness, only showing up with fell distinctness one +object—that slender protruding wrist and hand, whiter than Alpine +snow! I gazed at it wildly—the gleam of the jewels down there hurt my +eyes—the shine of the silver crucifix clasped in those little waxen +fingers dazzled my brain-and with a frantic cry of unreasoning terror, +I rushed up the steps with a maniac speed—opened the iron gate through +which SHE would pass no more, and stood at liberty in the free air, +face to face with a wind as tempestuous as my own passions. With what +furious haste I shut the entrance to the vault! with what fierce +precaution I locked and doubled-locked it! Nay, so little did I realize +that she was actually dead, that I caught myself saying +aloud—"Safe—safe at last! She cannot escape—I have closed the secret +passage—no one will hear her cries—she will struggle a little, but it +will soon be over—she will never laugh any more—never kiss—never +love—never tell lies for the fooling of men!—she is buried as I +was—buried alive!" +</P> + +<P> +Muttering thus to myself with a sort of sobbing incoherence, I turned +to meet the snarl of the savage blast of the night, with my brain +reeling, my limbs weak and trembling—with the heavens and earth +rocking before me like a wild sea—with the flying moon staring aghast +through the driving clouds—with all the universe, as it were, in a +broken and shapeless chaos about me; even so I went forth to meet my +fate—and left her! +</P> + +<HR ALIGN="center" WIDTH="60%"> + +<P> +Unrecognized, untracked, I departed from Naples. Wrapped in my cloak, +and stretched in a sort of heavy stupor on the deck of the +"Rondinella," my appearance apparently excited no suspicion in the mind +of the skipper, old Antonio Bardi, with whom my friend Andrea had made +terms for my voyage, little aware of the real identity of the passenger +he recommended. +</P> + +<P> +The morning was radiantly beautiful—the sparkling waves rose high on +tiptoe to kiss the still boisterous wind—the sunlight broke in a wide +smile of springtide glory over the world! With the burden of my agony +upon me—with the utter exhaustion of my overwrought nerves, I beheld +all things as in a feverish dream—the laughing light, the azure ripple +of waters—the receding line of my native shores—everything was +blurred, indistinct, and unreal to me, though my soul, Argus-eyed, +incessantly peered down, down into those darksome depths where SHE lay, +silent forever. For now I knew she was dead. Fate had killed her—not +I. All unrepentant as she was, triumphing in her treachery to the last, +even in her madness, still I would have saved her, though she strove to +murder me. +</P> + +<P> +Yet it was well the stone had fallen—who knows!—if she had lived—I +strove not to think of her, and drawing the key of the vault from my +pocket, I let it drop with a sudden splash into the waves. All was +over—no one pursued me—no one inquired whither I went. I arrived at +Civita Vecchia unquestioned; from thence I travelled to Leghorn, where +I embarked on board a merchant trading vessel bound for South America. +Thus I lost myself to the world; thus I became, as it were, buried +alive for the second time. I am safely sepulchered in these wild woods, +and I seek no escape. +</P> + +<P> +Wearing the guise of a rough settler, one who works in common with +others, hewing down tough parasites and poisonous undergrowths in order +to effect a clearing through these pathless solitudes, none can trace +in the strong stern man, with the care-worn face and white hair, any +resemblance to the once popular and wealthy Count Oliva, whose +disappearance, so strange and sudden, was for a time the talk of all +Italy. For, on one occasion when visiting the nearest town, I saw an +article in a newspaper, headed "Mysterious Occurrence in Naples," and I +read every word of it with a sensation of dull amusement. +</P> + +<P> +From it I learned that the Count Oliva was advertised for. His abrupt +departure, together with that of his newly married wife, formerly +Contessa Romani, on the very night of their wedding, had created the +utmost excitement in the city. The landlord of the hotel where he +stayed was prosecuting inquiries—so was the count's former valet, one +Vincenzo Flamma. Any information would be gratefully received by the +police authorities. If within twelve months no news were obtained, the +immense properties of the Romani family, in default of existing +kindred, would be handed over to the crown. +</P> + +<P> +There was much more to the same effect, and I read it with the utmost +indifference. Why do they not search the Romani vault?—I thought +gloomily—they would find some authentic information there! But I know +the Neapolitans well; they are timorous and superstitious; they would +as soon hug a pestilence as explore a charnel house. One thing +gladdened me; it was the projected disposal of my fortune. The crown, +the Kingdom of Italy, was surely as noble an heir as a man could have! +I returned to my woodland hut with a strange peace on my soul. +</P> + +<P> +As I told you at first, I am a dead man—the world, with its busy life +and aims, has naught to do with me. The tall trees, the birds, the +whispering grasses are my friends and my companions—they, and they +only, are sometimes the silent witnesses of the torturing fits of agony +that every now and then overwhelm me with bitterness. For I suffer +always. That is natural. Revenge is sweet!—but who shall paint the +horrors of memory? My vengeance now recoils upon my own head. I do not +complain of this—it is the law of compensation—it is just. I blame no +one—save Her, the woman who wrought my wrong. Dead as she is I do not +forgive her; I have tried to, but I cannot! Do men ever truly forgive +the women who ruin their lives? I doubt it. As for me, I feel that the +end is not yet—that when my soul is released from its earthly prison, +I shall still be doomed in some drear dim way to pursue her treacherous +flitting spirit over the black chasms of a hell darker than +Dante's—she in the likeness of a wandering flame—I as her haunting +shadow; she, flying before me in coward fear—I, hasting after her in +relentless wrath—and this forever and ever! +</P> + +<P> +But I ask no pity—I need none. I punished the guilty, and in doing so +suffered more than they—that is as it must always be. I have no regret +and no remorse; only one thing troubles me—one little thing—a mere +foolish fancy! It conies upon me in the night, when the large-faced +moon looks at me from heaven. For the moon is grand in this climate; +she is like a golden-robed empress of all the worlds as she sweeps in +lustrous magnificence through the dense violet skies. I shut out her +radiance as much as I can; I close the blind at the narrow window of my +solitary forest cabin; and yet do what I will, one wide ray creeps in +always—one ray that eludes all my efforts to expel it. Under the door +it comes, or through some unguessed cranny in the wood-work. I have in +vain tried to find the place of its entrance. +</P> + +<P> +The color of the moonlight in this climate is of a mellow amber—so I +cannot understand why that pallid ray that visits me so often, should +be green—a livid, cold, watery green; and in it, like a lily in an +emerald pool, I see a little white hand on which the jewels cluster +thick like drops of dew! The hand moves—it lifts itself—the small +fingers point at me threateningly—they quiver—and then—they beckon +me slowly, solemnly, commandingly onward!—onward!—to some infinite +land of awful mysteries where Light and Love shall dawn for me no more. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<P CLASS="finis"> +The End +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR><BR> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Vendetta, by Marie Corelli + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VENDETTA *** + +***** This file should be named 4360-h.htm or 4360-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/4/3/6/4360/ + +Produced by Charles Franks and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. HTML version by Al Haines. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.net/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.net), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.net + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + +</pre> + +</BODY> + +</HTML> + + |